


i have loved you since we were eighteen (long before we both thought the same thing)

by forbiddenquill



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, HUGELY inspired by the movie Love Rosie, also this might probably be the longest pining fic i've ever written, clarke and lexa spend the majority of the fic just unconsciously pining after each other, clarke just makes a lot of bad choices, its both hilarious and sad, no one gets pregnant dont worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 52,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3957382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forbiddenquill/pseuds/forbiddenquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes fourteen years for Clarke and Lexa to realize that they’re in love with each other and another eight years to finally say the words out loud, only to find out that it’s twenty-two years too late.</p><p>(or: the one where Clarke and Lexa are childhood best friends who mistake the difference between loving someone and being in love with them.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. fourteen years before

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the movie Love Rosie. 
> 
> There will be two parts: Fourteen Years Before and Eight Years After. 
> 
> No one gets pregnant. But people do get married. Like twice. 
> 
> Also, unBeta'd so mistakes are all mine. 
> 
> Enjoy.

_I have loved you since we were 18_   
_Long before we both thought the same thing_   
_To be loved and to be in love_   
_All I could do is say that these arms were made for holding you_   
_I wanna love like you made me feel when we were 18_

-One Direction

//

Clarke Griffin is sitting in Lexa Woods’ wedding with a glass of wine in her hand and tears in her eyes and really, everything should be perfect, everything should be _great._   Because her best friend is happy and dancing with her wife and leaning in to kiss her. Because the food taste wonderful and the music is quite lovely. Because all of her friends are laughing and taking pictures and generally having a good time.

Yeah, everything should be perfect.

But in reality, Clarke’s holding back a sob in her throat and oh God, she’s fucked everything up again. She’s sitting alone in a table while everybody is dancing and her best friend—the love of her life, her _soulmate_ —now officially belongs to someone who isn’t _her_.

Clarke has officially fucked up again.

She should probably start from the beginning.

//

22 YEARS PREVIOUSLY

It all starts when Clarke meets Lexa, all those blissful years ago. On the sixth of June, with the sun shining high up in the sky and the sounds of birds chirping through the air. They’re probably only four years old, Lexa being a few months older than Clarke, when they stumble across each other in the Griffin’s living room. Jake and Abby had invited their new neighbor from across the street and in return, Gustus Woods dragged a reluctant Lexa to formally meet the neighborhood.

(To this day, Lexa is still thankful to her father for making her meet Clarke but she’s never voiced the sentiment out loud, even to her blonde best friend.)

Gustus leaves Lexa in the living room to watch TV while Clarke busies herself finishing the painting her chubby hands can barely draw. She’s sitting in the kitchen, listening to her father talking to Gustus about some new sports event that she and her mother can barely stand and when she finally finishes (she hands it to Abby for approval and Abby smiles before taping it to the fridge) Clarke drops down to the floor and hurries to the living room, excited and a bit nervous to meet Lexa Woods.

Lexa Woods is firmly seated in the middle of the couch when Clarke pops out from the kitchen. Clarke’s blonde hair is tied in a low bun and there’s paint on her cheeks and smudges of crayon underneath her fingernails. She cheekily grins at Lexa, who raises an eyebrow at her disheveled look.

(Lexa will soon get used to seeing Clarke like this, because the blonde hardly ever cleans up after herself.)

“Hi,” Clarke says, sticking her hand out for Lexa to take.

Lexa doesn’t move. Instead, she wrinkles her nose and says, ever so haughtily, “You’re dirty.”

“But artists are always dirty,” Clarke whines, pouting as she pulls her hand back.

“No, they aren’t,” Lexa insists, “They’ve got those aprons to keep the paint off their face.”

Clarke frowns, probably not realizing that she _does_ have paint on her face. She raises her hands and tries to wipe it off, but without a mirror to help, she only manages to smudge it even further across her cheeks. Lexa, who has been watching with half exasperation and half amusement, rolls her green eyes and gets off the couch. She grabs a hanky from the pocket of her jumper and stands over Clarke, who is a few inches shorter.

“Stop,” she says, “you’re going to get it in your mouth and you’ll die of paint poisoning.”

Clarke’s jaw drops and she whispers, “Does that really happen?”

“I read about it.”

Tears form in Clarke’s eyes. Oh no. She’s probably going to give up painting for the rest of her life and live as a hobo and die in the streets with no one to remember her name and it’s all so sad, because her imagination’s a bit wild, when all of a sudden, Lexa laughs. It’s a delightful laugh, which quietly turns into a giggle when Clarke glares at her.

“You’re making fun of me,” Clarke accuses.

Lexa grabs her face and wipes off the paint, a small hint of a smile gracing her lips. “It’s true,” she insists, “But don’t worry, I’m not going to let you die just because you’re too stupid enough to clean up after yourself.”

Clarke’s glare turns a little harsher and Lexa’s smile widens before she’s giggling all over again.

Yeah, it all starts there. Because Clarke will forever remember this first meeting, often thinks about it when she’s trying hard to sleep on restless nights, often lets her mind return to this very moment; where Lexa is smiling and laughing at her, braided brown hair shining in the afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, green eyes bright and full of life, the gleam of her teeth mocking four-year-old Clarke’s idiocy as her hands wipe off the paint from her cheeks.

It all starts there because in this one encounter, Clarke Griffin falls in love with Lexa Woods. But she’s too young to tell the difference at this age so she spends the following years thinking that she loves Lexa Woods as a friend, when she really doesn’t. 

//

It takes Lexa a year later to catch up.

They’ve become the best of friends in that duration of time. Mostly it’s because they live so close to each other but also partly because Lexa’s the type of person who will never get tired of Clarke’s chatter and Clarke’s the type of person who knows when to shut up whenever Lexa gets too quiet. Really, they’re honestly so perfect for each other and Clarke knows it, but she doesn’t say it out loud (she never really says it out loud, until it’s honestly, perfectly too late).

It takes Lexa twelve months and two weeks to realize that she, too, has the misfortune of falling in love with her best friend.

Clarke’s birthday is coming up and Lexa has spent the said two weeks trying to find the perfect gift. She knows how much Clarke _loves_ to draw but the rest of the class knows that too. And she wants to be original, doesn’t want to be the fifth person to give Clarke crayons or drawing paper. She needs her gift to be something _special_ because Clarke is _special_ and yeah, she’s been beating herself up for the past fortnight.

Her father seems to find it hilarious and last week, he stumbled across his daughter tearing a paper in half because she couldn’t, for the love of everything holy and merciful, draw an orange for her best friend.

It’s quite pitiful, really, how Lexa cannot seem to find the perfect gift.

“What if she hates me?” Lexa moans two nights before Clarke’s fifth birthday.

Her father laughs at the head of the dinner table. “She’s not going to hate you, Alexandria,” he tells her patiently.

“I don’t want to give her stupid art supplies,” she mutters loudly, “She’ll probably accidentally eat the paint before she gets to the cake. She has a bad habit of doing that.”

Chuckling, her father passes her the salad. Lexa mournfully chews into it.

“Why not her give her a teddy bear?”

At this, Lexa looks up, her broccoli falling halfway from her lips before she catches it with her hand. Swallowing the rest of her meal, she pushes her unruly hair from her eyes and turns her eager gaze towards her father, who smiles knowingly at her.

“A teddy bear?” she repeats.

“Yeah, remember the one time she called you in the middle of the night because she thought something was moving in her closet?” Her father says, “The two of you wouldn’t sleep unless you had a sleepover. I thought Abby would pop a vein when she heard. Jake just laughed.”

Lexa does remember. It was probably one of the most terrifying nights in her life; Clarke crying in the phone and sputtering out nonsense and begging for her to come over so that they could face the monster together. Lexa had told her that she was already on her way but she was also crying, because Clarke was crying and whenever Clarke cried, Lexa followed suit. Their parents didn’t see any other choice but to let them have what they want and that night, Clarke fell asleep while holding onto her best friend for dear life. 

“A teddy bear,” Lexa repeats again. It doesn’t seem to be a bad idea.

“Yeah, tell her that it’ll protect her from evil,” her father heartily says. He pauses, frowning. “Wait, didn’t you get one from your grandmother?”

Lexa beams at this. For her birthday, her grandmother sent a package with a teddy bear inside. It had been bright pink with a white shirt and large black eyes and a grinning face. Lexa put it away, however, because she felt as if she was too old for stuffed animals.

“You’re right!” she exclaims, grinning so widely that her cheeks hurt, “I’ll give her my teddy bear!”

 Her father smiles again. “Good girl.”

…

It’s Clarke’s birthday and she invites the whole class for a clown party. It takes place in the backyard and there are tables full of food, drinks, gifts and etc. Everybody shows up and most of the kids are already crowded around the funny looking clown who is holding a bunch of brightly colored balloons in his hand. Clarke is in the middle of it all, wearing a crown that deems her to be a princess.

She grins when Lexa finally shows up as well, holding her gift tightly in both hands. Her dad dropped her off with a quick, “Make it count” before winking exaggeratedly. Lexa is nervous and she has every right to be. What if Clarke doesn’t like her gift? What if Clarke hates her for the rest of her life? What if—Clarke suddenly flings herself into Lexa’s arms and all of her worries _almost_ disappear.

“Glad you could make it,” Clarke says, pulling back and laughing. Her crown nearly slips off her head.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lexa responds.

Clarke gives her a strange look—well, it’s not really _strange_ but she’s wearing an expression that’s partly hopeful and partly sad. Which is weird but whatever. They have cake and Lexa is really, really hungry.

“Come on,” Clarke says, tugging at her hand, “The party’s already starting.”

…

At the end of the day, the party turns out to be a success. Only three kids have cried at the sight of the clown, including the fearless Octavia Blake, who nearly peed her pants when the clown offered her a purple balloon. Her older brother, Bellamy (who had taken upon himself to attend the party in case Octavia got in trouble) nearly punches the poor man wearing the suit and Abby has to take him away for some very fine words.

Anyway, it’s gift-opening time and Lexa’s stomach is full of painful butterflies. Just as she has predicted, Clarke has mostly gotten art supplies and crayons and paper, which she accepts with a huge grin and a loud ‘thank you!’ to the said person. A dark-skinned boy named Wells Jaha gives Clarke a necklace that reads: PRINCESS in small print. He turns a bit red when Clarke smiles at him and Lexa feels a lurch in her heart.

When Jake hands Clarke the medium-sized box that Lexa has decorated with flowers and a very crude drawing of Clarke eating paint off her fingers, Lexa almost wants to run away, in fear of what Clarke will say. The blonde takes it curiously, shooting her best friend a glare when she notices the drawing. Lexa just shrugs, shoving her hands into the back of her pockets as she hears paper tearing.

There’s a hushed silence and Clarke squeals. When Lexa looks up, the blonde is already on her way towards her, smiling a radiant smile that knocks all the breath from Lexa’s lungs, right before she entangles the brunette in a bear-crushing hug.

Lexa meets Wells’s eyes from across the yard and smirks when he glares at her.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Clarke repeats over and over again, tightening the embrace.

Lexa hugs her back just as tightly. “Glad you like it,” she murmurs against the blonde’s shoulder.

“It’s perfect!” The birthday girl pulls away, cheeks red and grin so wide that it must hurt her cheeks. Lexa looks down at the teddy bear, smiling fondly when she reads the words: _Please don’t eat paint and die and leave me alone in this world_ written across the white shirt. It’s a bit dramatic for five-year-olds but it seems only fitting.

Lexa only looks back at Clarke when the blonde says, “Really, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

“It’s just a teddy bear,” Lexa says, shrugging. But only, it’s not. She’s spent two weeks worrying over this stupid gift and losing sleep over it and dealing with the fear that Clarke might not like it. It’s not _just_ a teddy bear because Lexa believes it to be the symbol of their friendship, of the paint in Clarke’s cheeks when they had met, of the phone call in the middle of the night when Clarke had woken up terrified, of the fact that they’re best friends ( _soulmates_ even, but Lexa doesn’t say that out loud) and they’re probably going to stay that way for the rest of their lives.

 _Best friends_ , Lexa thinks and smiles because to live a life completely entangled with Clarke Griffin’s doesn’t seem so bad at all.

Clarke meets her gaze and lightly shakes her head. “It’s not just a teddy bear,” she says, sharing Lexa’s sentiment.

And _this_ is where Lexa catches up, or when she realizes; because looking at Clarke Griffin in that very moment, where the blonde has a crown donned on top of her head and stars shining in her very blue eyes and a smile that could possibly drip constellations, Lexa knows of one thing and one thing only:

She is completely in love with her best friend and with this fact safely nestled in the cradle of her chest; she ignores it for years to come. Because loving Clarke Griffin _and_ being in love with her is the same thing.

(Only, it isn’t.)

//

Clarke hugs the teddy bear (whom she has so gallantly decided to call _Romeo_ because she’s five and obsessed with the movie) every night before she goes to sleep for the next few years. She’s not even embarrassed with the fact that she brings Romeo along for road trips and visits to her relatives in California. Her dad finds it hilarious, especially when he first reads the words written in Lexa’s sloppy handwriting on the shirt. He always comments on it whenever Lexa comes over for dinner or sleepovers and Lexa always blushes and grins, which Clarke finds ultimately endearing. 

So, when Clarke is seven and she loses sight of Romeo, her whole world nearly comes crashing down.

She’s walking from the bathroom and untying the braid from her hair when she notices that Romeo isn’t sitting in his usual place on top of her pillows. Frowning, she thinks that he might’ve simply fallen off the bed or behind the blankets but when she searches every inch of her room only to come up empty-handed, she realizes that the situation seems more daunting than it already is.

“No, no, no,” she says to the empty room, running her fingers through her unruly hair. She wishes she was old enough to say bad words because there a few colorful sentences that comes to mind.

Clarke blinks the impending tears from her eyes and grabs the telephone on the bedside table. She punches in the familiar numbers and glances over to the clock, discovering that it’s already half past ten. Lexa might probably already be asleep and Clarke prays to God that she’s not.

The phone rings six times before Lexa, sleepy-voiced and obviously trying hard not to yawn, says, “Hello?”

“I lost Romeo,” Clarke says immediately, mentally slapping herself at how the words sound, “No, _wait_ —I didn’t lose him. He was sitting on my bed this morning and when I’m about to go to sleep, he’s gone!”

“Did you check under the bed?”

“I checked the entire room!”

There’s a pause and then Lexa says, almost very hesitantly, “Maybe your mom took him for laundry?”

Clarke groans. “My mom’s at work right now and Dad’s asleep and the laundry room is way too dark and I’m scared and I’ve been sleeping with Romeo for two years straight and I’m not about to sleep alone in this dark, empty room with potential monsters in the closet.” She exhales a deep breath, almost laughing at how ridiculous she sounds.

There’s silence on the other end and Lexa sighs. “Say it,” she says, sounding exasperated.

Clarke smiles to herself. Lexa knows her too well and she thanks God and the heavens above for giving her a best friend in the form of Lexa Woods, when she could’ve easily gotten nothing. She sits down on the bed, runs her fingers through her hair and very quietly, says, “Come inside?”

Lexa grumbles “I’m already on my way” before she hangs up.

Clarke grins at the phone. Yeah. Best friends are great.

…

Lexa collapses on Clarke’s bed the minute the door opens. The lights are still painfully turned on and she blinks at the bright lights before twisting around to look at her best friend, who is still standing by the open door.

“You should go to sleep,” Lexa mutters, letting her head fall back on the pillow.

Clarke hums under her breath before shutting the door and switching off the lights. She crawls into the bed next to Lexa, who makes space for her, and then throws the blankets over their bodies. It’s always cold in November and even with the heater present, Lexa can still feel shivers up her spine.

“Did you find him?” Lexa asks.

“Not yet. Why?”

“Because if you had found him, then I wouldn’t have to wake up at ten and drag my butt across the street to get to you,” Lexa mutters, nudging closer to Clarke, who giggles.

“Even if Romeo was still here, I would’ve asked for another sleepover. We haven’t had any in weeks.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

Lexa sighs. They both know it, so she snuggles closer to Clarke, throwing her arm across the blonde’s waist and pulling her close. She doesn’t see the way Clarke’s eyelids flutter shut or the way Clarke’s breath stutters because she’s too busy inhaling the minty scent of her best friend’s toothpaste and listening to her steady heartbeat.

“No, I don’t,” Lexa agrees.

Clarke sighs happily. “That’s good,” she says and Lexa’s already drifting off to sleep but not before she catches, “Besides, you’re a better hugger than Romeo ever was.”

(When they both wake up for breakfast in the morning, they are greeted with Jake Griffin waggling Romeo around in one hand while making eggs in the pan, saying that Clarke had left the poor thing between the cushions in the sofa.)

(Lexa shoots her a glare and Clarke just sheepishly smiles.)

…

Middle school isn’t hard. Except, there’s this annoying boy in her English class who keeps checking out her drawings and pulling on her hair and generally being a pain in the butt. His name is Finn Collins and his hair is smooth and floppy and his eyes are wide and soft and Clarke definitely doesn’t have a crush on him.

(Except, she really does.)

She’s ten years old and crushing on a stupid boy who doesn’t even take his classes seriously, who wants to have a skateboard for his next birthday and who has a girl best friend named Raven Reyes, who is honestly good friends with Clarke unless she brings up Finn. Then Raven turns cold and jealous and God, it’s obvious that she has a crush on Finn too.

She tells this to Lexa one afternoon when they’re studying for a big test in the library. Lexa highlights the words on her books and copies stuff from the computer and writes down notes on her sticky paper. She’s so good at this whole studying thing because Clarke just spends the entire time complaining, pretending to read some block of text in her notes and then complaining all over again.

This afternoon, she complains a bit more because Finn tapped her on the shoulder three times and looked away during Art class and to think about it now, especially when she’s sitting with Lexa, is deathly annoying and Clarke just rolls her eyes at the memory.

Lexa looks up at her then, tilting her head to the side.

“Something bothering you?” she asks.

“It’s just this boy in my class,” Clarke mutters, “His name is Finn and God, he’s so annoying! He always bothers me whenever I’m drawing and when I finish with it, he snatches it from my hands and makes some cool comment about how it must highlight something from my soul or whatnot, which is stupid, because I was just drawing you and he started saying something about—”

“Wait,” Lexa interrupts her monologue. If Clarke looks closely enough, then she’d be able to see the faint pink flush on her best friend’s cheeks but she’s not looking, because she’s too busy glaring at the ground at the thought of Finn Collins. “You were drawing _me_?” Lexa questions.

Clarke shrugs, looking up briefly. Lexa seems pleasantly surprised. “Well yeah,” Clarke says, “I always draw you. You’re like, burned in my memory or something. Plus, you’re pretty.”

“Uh, thanks?”

“Don’t mention it.” Clarke grins but then goes back to Finn again. “Anyway, Finn has this best friend named Raven and I think Raven has a crush on him because whenever I talk about Finn, she always shuts down and gets really mad and sometimes, she throws stuff.”

“Like what?”

“One time, it was her shoe.”

Lexa suddenly laughs and Clarke is jolted back to their first meeting, with the said brunette towering over her and wiping the paint off her cheeks while giggling and smiling. A lot of people have said that Lexa is too serious, that she hardly smiles whenever she’s not around and it gives her pride, knowing that she’s the only person Lexa is truly comfortable with. So, she grins at the memory, because she always treasures it as one of the best moments in her life, since it led her to Lexa.

“I hope you didn’t get hurt,” Lexa comments.

“Nah, I’m awesome.” Clarke’s grin widens when Lexa gives her a fond look. Then she looks back down at her notes, because somehow, she can’t seem to hold Lexa’s gaze. She takes a deep breath and says, “So, what’s the deal with Pluto?”

//

Lexa quickly gets tired of hearing about Finn Collins.

It takes one encounter for her to hate him for the rest of her life (which, she later finds out, will not be an understatement) because she finds out that he’s nothing but trouble for Clarke and that they are definitely not meant to be together. It’s stupid, really, because they’re only ten years old and it’s not like her heart wants to give out whenever Clarke talks about getting a boyfriend or whenever she remarks about wanting to marry Channing Tatum. It’s not like she doesn’t want Clarke to have someone (because she does, just anybody _but_ Finn Collins.) It’s not like she’s completely, head-over-heels in love with her best friend or something.

She’s already told herself this over and over again—she _loves_ Clarke and she definitely isn’t in love with her.

(The lines blur at times, especially in moments like this.)

She meets Finn Collins while heading home from school one day. Clarke called in sick this morning. Somehow, she’s gotten the stomach flu and has to be in bed all day. Lexa buys some chocolate from a store and then makes her way to her street, making sure that Clarke’s treat doesn’t accidentally fall down the sewers or something. She’s about to turn a corner when Finn pops out of nowhere, blocking her path.

“Hi,” he says, grinning cheekily. He isn’t exactly tall, since Lexa has to look down on him from where she’s seated.

She stops her bike and glares. “What is it?” she snaps.

He doesn’t look much. Long, floppy dark hair and cool grey eyes with an annoying way of smirking, Lexa has seen cuter boys and she doesn’t even _like_ them. She thinks of them as another species, in fact.

“You’re friends with Clarke, right?” he asks.

“ _Best_ friends,” Lexa growls. Yeah, she’s territorial and in the span of the thirty seconds that Lexa’s been in the same space as Finn Collins, she already hates him. Based on the scowl on his face, he seems to return the feeling. _Good_ , Lexa thinks, wanting nothing more than to push this kid down the sewers.

“Can you give her something for me?” he asks, voice laced with dislike.

“Do I look like a delivery girl to you?”

He rolls his eyes, grabbing something from his pockets and nearly throwing the thing at Lexa. She catches it with one hand, her jaw nearly dropping in surprise when she sees that it’s a necklace with a metal figure fashioned as a two-headed deer at the end of it. She looks back at Finn, who shrugs at her raised eyebrows.

“It’s an inside joke,” he explains.

Lexa knows. Clarke told her all about it last week. Apparently, Clarke had been drawing something for her personal project about a dystopian earth and mutated animals came to mind. Finn saw her painting of the deer and commented that it looked _awesome as hell_. Now Clarke can’t stop talking about it, which reminds Lexa of her burning hatred for the boy in front of her.

She’s not going to make this easy, she decides.

“What’s in it for me?” she asks, looking at the necklace with distaste.

“Uh, you get to be a good friend?” Finn says sarcastically, shrugging his shoulders when Lexa rolls her eyes. “Just do me a favor, okay? Tell Clarke that I hope she feels better by tomorrow.”

He walks away, shoulders hunched forward and Lexa is tempted to throw the necklace at the back of his head for the hell of it when she realizes that Clarke might probably kill her for doing just that. She lets out a loud exhale, pocketing the gift and glancing at the chocolate she has in her basket. Somehow, it doesn’t take long for her to figure out that Clarke will probably like Finn’s gift better than hers and the fact burrows a hole into her chest.

(Later, when she walks in to find Clarke snuggled next to Romeo, she considers just throwing the necklace away but then again—Clarke likes Finn, for some unknown reason, and Finn seems to like her back and there has to be some rule about letting your friend be happy—so Lexa is going to suck it up and be a good best friend, because that’s what best friends do right?)

(Clarke wears that stupid necklace every day for the rest of the year, until, by some unfortunate incident, she loses it during a sleepover with Lexa, who may or may not have flushed it down the toilet by _accident_.)

//

Clarke gets her first kiss during Raven’s fifteenth birthday party and by some flaw in the universe; it’s not with Finn Collins.

Most of the grade has been invited to the party so Clarke and Lexa show up awhile after the designated meeting time. They get dropped off by Gustus, who pecks Lexa’s cheek and then ruffles Clarke’s hair, before driving away. Lexa looks a bit embarrassed by the display of affection but Clarke just laughs and pulls her along to the inside of the house, where most of their schoolmates have already started partying in. Clarke can already spot Raven and Octavia dancing to a high school musical song through the front window.

“Tonight is the night,” Clarke says out loud, grinning broadly.

Lexa turns to look at her, one eyebrow raised. “What do you mean?” she asks.

“The night I get my first kiss,” Clarke answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Based on the look of pure horror on Lexa’s face, it must not be so obvious. She is quick to change the subject because she knows how weird Lexa gets whenever they talk about relationships. “Anyway, we should go in. Raven’s probably dying to know what my gift for her is.”

Lexa grunts, shoving her hands into her pockets. “And what is your gift? You’ve been pretty secretive about it.”

“Just a painting I drew.”

“ _Just_?” Lexa questions, “Clarke, your drawings are _amazing_. My kindergarten scribbles can barely compare to your high school sketches.”

Clarke grins, a blush coming up to her cheeks. She always likes it when Lexa praises her because she knows it’s true. Lexa Woods is probably the most honest and straightforward any person can ever meet and thank God she has her for a best friend. She tugs Lexa to her side and pulls her in for a side-hug, not catching the way Lexa’s eyes dilate and the way she seems to have lost the ability to speak for a few seconds. They’ve hugged plenty of times, especially when they were kids, and Lexa always somehow manages to smell the same. Like forest mixed in with a bit of mint from chewing bubblegum and flowers from her perfume.

“Thanks, _Alexandria_ ,” Clarke lets the name drag across her tongue and Lexa rolls her eyes before pushing the blonde off her.

“Thanks for ruining the mood,” she mutters under her breath.

Clarke just smiles cheekily at her before tangling their fingers together and then pushing the door open.

//

The party is wild and messy for a fourteen year old girl and Lexa can feel her palms sweating the minute Clarke lets go of her hands to go fetch some drinks and maybe catch sight of a certain dark-haired boy, leaving Lexa to stand alone in the middle in a room full of dancing people (who are thankfully too young to drink anything except for Coke and orange juice) with her heart pounding loudly inside her chest and her fingers shaking at her sides.

She knows most of these people but she’s kept to herself for the first half of the year, so technically, she doesn’t have any friends. Except for Clarke. Clarke, who is currently nowhere to be found. She takes a slow, steadying breath before moving to the couch, where a girl with flowers and braids in her hair is currently checking something in her phone. Lexa bites her lip, because this girl is undeniably attractive and she has to wonder if sitting next to her is a violation of her privacy or something.

Almost as if she’s read her mind, the girl looks up and God, she really is pretty with eyes the color of amber and cheeks spattered with freckles and a smile so radiant that it rival’s the sun’s rays.

“Hi,” the girl says, putting away her phone, “Do you want to sit down?”

Lexa takes another deep breath. “If you don’t mind,” she mumbles.

“I don’t,” Flower Girl says, smiling as she gestures to the empty space next to her and Lexa nearly stumbles on her way for a chance to sit down since her legs have been starting to cramp for a while now. Flower Girl’s smile widens as Lexa rights herself, blushing furiously.

“I’m Lexa,” she introduces herself, because it’s better than stuttering out an apology.

“Costia,” the girl greets, “and I must say, I don’t think I’ve noticed you before. Are you sure you go to our school?”

Lexa shrugs. “I’m sure. Besides, I don’t really go out much.”

“Are you one of those social outcasts?” Costia’s tone is joking.

Frowning, Lexa is about to say “Fuck the hierarchy” because that’s what Clarke always say whenever someone mentions that she’s too popular to be hanging out with weirdos like Lexa Woods but she bites back her tongue because Lexa is only thirteen and she doesn’t think having a colorful language is your best bet to get in with the new crowd.

“Maybe,” she says instead.

Costia beams. “Do you want a drink?” she asks, gesturing to her red cup, which is only filled with Coke. “I know that it’s not like in those movies where we both get drunk and then make out in the broom closet or anything but hey, it must count for something, right?”

Lexa lets out a small laugh because a.) she’s pretty sure Costia is flirting with her b.) she’s alone for the first time without Clarke glued to her side and she’s already made a new friend and lastly c.) she’s also ninety percent sure that she likes Costia flirting with her.

(She ignores the other ten percent that is currently _dying_ to get up and look for her best friend.)

“I’d like that,” she tells Costia and Costia smiles at her again before getting up from her place on the couch and maneuvering her way towards the buffet table. Lexa quickly places her bag on Costia’s space, so that no one will take her seat. She ignores the first fact that her cheeks hurt because she’s smiling so much and the second fact that yeah, she’s really starting to like Costia. Also, the third fact; that Clarke might possibly not like Costia but Lexa’s too happy to care.

Costia comes back brandishing two red cups, handing one to Lexa and resuming her place on the couch again. The party has considerably calmed down in the past ten minutes and Lexa notices small groups heading outside to enjoy the fire Raven has started and couples pairing off to sneak upstairs. It doesn’t help with the fact that she and Costia are alone in the living room, except for a few people still dancing to the music behind them.

“Have you ever kissed a girl before?” Costia says, as the start of small talk.

(Lexa nearly chokes on her drink.)

//

Clarke looks around for the fifth time ever since she’s sat down and formed a semi-circle with the rest of her close friends. Raven and Wells Jaha are sitting on either side of her and she can tell that she’s worrying Wells and annoying Raven with the amount of times she’s craned her neck and whipped her head around. They’re outside in the backyard, enjoying the heat of the fire Raven has worked up and Clarke looks down at her empty solo cup, wishing that she could use it as an excuse to get inside already and look for Lexa.

“Jesus, Princess,” Raven mutters loudly, “Way to make a girl feel special on her birthday.”

Clarke turns towards her, mouth slightly open. “Wait, what?” she asks.

Raven pointedly glares at her but its halfhearted because the corners of her lips are turned up. “You’ve been looking like a lost puppy for the past ten minutes and there should be some protocol about giving your full attention to the person who’s celebrating her fifteenth year of innocence before she gets flat out drunk next year but I guess you aren’t oriented.”

“Sorry,” Clarke says, chewing the inside of her cheek, “It’s just that—my best friend’s my ride home and I can’t find her anywhere.”

“You mean the weird one who barely speaks to anyone and who would rather be caught dead listening to Justin Bieber than in one of the most popular parties of the year?” Clarke nods and Raven laughs lightly, shaking her head as she mutters something that ridiculously sounds like, “You’re hopeless.”

“What are you talking about?” Clarke presses on, because she’s not hopeless—why the hell would she be hopeless?

Raven shrugs, sipping her Coke and spitting it out in the fire. It doesn’t do much to get a rise from the flames and she leans back in disappointment before letting her gaze fall back on Finn Collins, who’s sitting directly across her, watching them both. Clarke’s cheeks flush when she catches his gaze and she turns back to Raven.

“Raven, what did—?”

“HEY, EVERYBODY,” Raven yells out of nowhere, staggering up to her feet and moving across the yard. The rest of the group follows, most of them grumbling at the lack of warmth, and Wells pulls Clarke up to her feet as they form another semi-circle near Raven again, this time closer to the moon and farther from the fire. Raven tips her head back and exhales loudly before she says, louder this time, “LET’S PLAY SPIN THE BOTTLE.”

There are a few whoops from Octavia and some guys but Clarke and Wells both groan into their hands. Wells grins at her then and Clarke says, “This is a bit too grade school, don’t you think?”

“We _are_ young,” Wells says, pushing his cup towards her. Clarke hits her empty one with his, pretending that they’re beer bottles instead of pathetic solo cups and for the sixth time that night, she wonders where the hell Lexa is.

A guy named Murphy produces a beer bottle from his bag and everybody whistles appreciatively, Raven loudly commenting that he’s got some vices he needs to get rid of soon. Murphy just shrugs, before lying back down on the grass and enjoying the stars. Harper and Monroe are both chatting excitedly with each other, because it’s their first time playing Spin The Bottle and yeah, it’s Clarke’s first time too but she doesn’t know what’s the big deal. But then she spots Finn’s eyes from across the yard and she suddenly understands.

 _This_ is her chance—her chance to finally stop being such a whiny girl who daydreams about first kisses and Finn’s cool, grey eyes. Having your first kiss in one of the most popular girl’s parties is automatically a ticket into being a real teenager, the type who goes to parties and gets her car at sixteen and who has a fake ID.

Clarke takes a deep steady breath as Raven goes ahead to spin the bottle. It takes a few seconds before it points at Jasper, whose goggles fall over his eyes in shock.

“Pucker up,” Raven gleefully says and Jasper stutters out a few half-assed comments. His best friend, Monty, is glaring at the birthday girl as she approaches. The kiss is chaste and friendly but as Raven pulls away, Jasper’s mouth keeps dropping open.

In the next spin, Jasper gets Wells. Clarke laughs at the look of pure horror on her friend’s face. Jasper doesn’t look so happy about it too because when their lips meet, he is quick to pull back. Wells drowns the rest of his cup of Coke before throwing it towards the fire.

The next spin is Wells and Maya, a cute girl whom Jasper has been eyeing for quite some time now. Their kiss is soft as well, honest and quick and Wells gives Maya a small smile before he returns to his place next to Clarke.

Maya gets Murphy and they don’t look too ecstatic about it because Murphy scowls before leaning in to peck Maya’s mouth and Maya quietly asks Harper if she’s got some breath mint left. The next spin is an even worse pairing because it’s Murphy and Octavia. Octavia glares at the beer bottle almost as if it has personally offended her and Murphy rolls his eyes dramatically. Thank God they have already bypassed the stage of cooties because they both look like they’re aiming to kill each other.

Clarke leans her body next to Wells and eyes the door leading back to the house. Usually, Lexa would be out and about looking for her already and because she’s not here, it can only mean something. Either she’s busy or she’s already left. The first part is more likely because there is no way in hell Lexa would just ditch her.

Somebody whoops and when Clarke glances back at the group, she spots Raven grinning broadly and the bottle pointing directly at her. Octavia raises her eyebrows when Clarke’s gaze locks with hers.

“Finally!” Raven says, nudging Harper who laughs, “Let’s get some action here ladies!”

Octavia rolls her eyes and Clarke’s mouth suddenly feels very, very dry. She glances over at Finn, who grins at her as if they’re sharing a secret or a joke that she has no part of. Her heart plummets to the bottom of her heart because her first kiss is not going to be her middle school crush; her first kiss is with a girl—one who is currently walking towards her with her hips swaying and hair flying.

Wells pushes Clarke into a sitting position just as Octavia reaches her. The rest of the group is watching, most of the guys grinning and the girls all waiting patiently. When Clarke glances back at Wells, he looks pained.

“Just so you know,” Octavia says, all dark eyes and seductive smiles, “I totally swing both ways.”

Octavia kisses her and Clarke’s brain short-circuits because _—wow—_ the girl’s lips are soft and yielding, tasting strongly of Coke and strawberry lip gloss. And she’s never had other kisses to compare this with but she feels like _this_ is what first kisses should feel like. Like a warmth spreading through your chest and a giddiness that makes you roll your toes. Octavia makes a small sound as she deepens the kiss and Clarke’s eyes flutter close. They stay connected for a few more seconds before Wells loudly clears his throat and Octavia pulls away with a smack.

“Whoa,” Clarke mutters and the group must hear because they’re laughing and Octavia is blushing and grinning and Clarke’s heart is definitely not slamming loudly against the inside of her ribcage.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Octavia tells her, winking before she gets back to her place.

Clarke spins the bottle with her head still spinning and to another flaw in the universe, she gets Atom. Atom, who raises his eyebrows at her when Clarke stands and walks over to where he’s seated. She pulls him in for a kiss and Octavia must’ve fueled her somehow because the kiss is biting and sloppy but completely worth it to see the look of shock on the guy’s face.

“Look who’s starting to become a party animal,” Wells tells her when she gets back.

(Whether or not it’s a flaw in the universe or a miracle, Clarke doesn’t get to kiss Finn that night.)

//

Lexa meets up with Clarke when the clock hits 10 PM. She’s standing outside the porch, wearing the sweater her father had made her bring with her and grinning broadly at the number Costia typed in before she disappeared into the crowd. They had an awesome time, casually ignoring small talk and talking about the universe and the stars and sometimes, even aliens. They catch a few facts about each other and Lexa learns that Costia’s hobbies are photography and soccer and she has a guilty pleasure rewatching Nicholas Sparks movies. She hates Math with a burning passion and enjoys taking long walks across the beach.

Lexa really, really likes her.

Clarke pops up from the door, waving at Raven and Octavia before fully turning towards Lexa, who glances not so discreetly at her phone.

“Did you get lucky?” the blonde asks.

Lexa rolls her eyes. “Whatever,” she says, looking closely at the red flush on Clarke’s pale skin. “Did _you_?”

“We played Spin The Bottle,” Clarke answers, “I got to kiss four people tonight.”

A unwanted feeling that resembles something close to jealously and anger clutches at Lexa’s heart like a vice grip and she ignores it, choosing to focus on Clarke’s happiness. She tells herself that she’s jealous because Clarke got her first kiss and Lexa didn’t. She tells herself that she’s jealous because Clarke fits so well with a large crowd of people and she sticks out like a sore thumb. She tells herself she’s jealous, not because she wanted to be Clarke’s first kiss, but because she wants Clarke’s first kiss to be with someone special, and not four random people she got on a whim.

“That’s nice,” Lexa says, her tone tight, “Was it like the movies?”

Clarke shrugs. “It was okay,” she says, “but boy, kissing Octavia was like— _wow_.”

“You kissed Octavia?”

“Technically, she kissed me first but yeah, I kissed her.”

Lexa’s brain short-circuits. “You kissed a _girl_?” She doesn’t mean to sound so shocked but Clarke’s like the straightest person she knows—this is the girl who daydreams about a spring wedding with Channing Tatum, for God’s sake; this is the girl who would kiss Finn Collins, if given the chance; this is the girl who possibly cannot be caught dead kissing other girls as well.

Clarke gives her a look. “No need to be so shocked about it,” she mutters, her back straightening when she spots Lexa’s car coming into the driveway. “I might swing both ways, when I get older.”

Lexa doesn’t know how to feel about this newfound information. Because less than hour ago, she was sure she liked Costia, and not in the I-want-to-be-friends-with-her type of liking but in the I-want-to-kiss-her-and-hold-her-hand-in-public type of liking.

A memory resurfaces in her brain and she tries to ignore it. She doesn’t want to think about Clarke’s fifth birthday, when the blonde had looked at her with happiness pouring every fiber of being as she said, _It’s perfect_. _Thank you_. She doesn’t want to think about what she had thought back then, about her realization that she may or may not be in love with her best friend.

(She’s _not_ —she loves Clarke—she’s _not_ in love with her or anything.)

She bites her lower lip so hard she almost draws blood and Clarke clumsily reaches for her hand when Lexa’s dad honks his horn at them, pulling her towards the car.

“Come inside?” the blonde asks, giving her a look.

Lexa smiles but it’s a lot different than her usual smiles—this feels tight and forced. “I’m already on my way,” she says.

//

Clarke’s phone pops up with a message.

 **Lexa <3 (7:46AM): **I’m outside. Where are you?

 **Clarke Griffin** **(7:46AM):** Hold on. I’m trying to look for my shoes.

 **Lexa <3 (7:47 AM): **Please tell me you’re not trying to smuggle Romeo into your bag.

 **Clarke Griffin (7:48 AM):** ……

 **Clarke Griffin (7:48 AM):** it’s the first day of high school and I’m nervous and Romeo makes me feel better.

 **Clarke Griffin (7:49 AM):** also my shoes are seriously gone. Come inside?

 **Lexa <3 (7:49 AM): **I’m already on my way.

The door to her room opens and Clarke sheepishly looks up from where she’s crouched on all fours, trying to look for the new shoes she had just bought for the first day of class. Lexa crosses her arms and leans against the door way, raising her eyebrows. She is wearing a white turtleneck with ripped jeans, her grey beanie covering her forest green eyes.

“We’re going to be late,” she says.

“My dad will drive us there,” Clarke mutters, glancing back down under her bed. Nothing. She stands up and sighs. “I lost them. I’m doomed. I’m going to have to walk into class with nothing but my socks on and I’ll be at the bottom of the hierarchy.”

Lexa smiles fondly. “You won’t be alone,” she says before she walks into Clarke’s closet and searches around for a few minutes. Clarke grabs her bag from the bed, glancing sourly at Lexa before putting Romeo back on top of her pillows. When Lexa comes back, she’s holding Clarke’s shoes in one hand.

“Where’d you find it?” Clarke asks, taking the shoes gratefully.

“At the bottom of your closet.”

“I don’t remember putting it there.”

“You didn’t.” Lexa smiles. “I did.”

Clarke glares. “You are evil, Lexa Woods. I hate you.”

Lexa adjusts her beanie and nudges her shoulder with Clarke’s. She’s got a playful smirk on her face. “No, you don’t,” she says.

“No, I don’t,” Clarke agrees.

//

Lexa walks into English class and immediately spots Costia sitting by the window, talking to a tall, handsome looking boy with a shaved head and broad shoulders. She pushes down the jealously rising in her chest and takes a seat at the front of the room, arranging her back by her desk and then pointedly pulling out her phone. Clarke has Algebra for first period with Finn and Octavia.

 **Lexa <3 (8:32 AM): **how’s class?

 **Clarke Griffin (8:35 AM):** Mr. Wallace Jr. is an asshole and I can’t text you right now. See you for lunch.

 **Lexa <3 (8:36 AM): **see you then.

She pockets her phone at the same time Costia drops into the seat next to her.

“Hey, stranger,” the other girl says. She’s wearing a floral dress with a belt around her waist and designer boots. Her hair is knotted into intricate braids at the top of her head, donned with flowers all over again. Lexa is strongly reminded of their first meeting and something in her chest swoops upwards at the sight of the other girl. A grin makes its way into her face.

“Hi,” she says, almost shyly.

“I thought you forgot all about me,” Costia says, almost mournfully, “We texted for like two months before you disappeared. I haven’t even seen you all summer.”

“I might’ve dropped my phone and lost your number and got a new phone and was too scared to ask for your number all over again,” Lexa admits and Costia looks at her for a few seconds before she laughs. It’s not a mocking laugh, it’s a genuine laugh—one that makes Lexa feel like she’s floating into the skies.

“Thank God,” Costia says, “I thought you were pissed at me.”

“Why would I be pissed at you?” Lexa is confused and it must show on her face because Costia sobers up and says, with a small smile tinged with sadness,

“Because I thought I scared you off.”

“But you didn’t,” Lexa is quick to say and Costia smiles.

“Like I said, thank God.”

//

“Who the hell is _that_?” Octavia gushes, grabbing Clarke’s arm and practically shaking her.

Clarke looks up from her locker, glancing over to where Octavia’s gaze is directed. A tall and really hot guy is walking out of Mr. Kane’s class with Lexa and a pretty girl Clarke has seen plenty of times before in tow. She knows that Octavia means the guy but she can’t help but stare at the girl, who’s currently chatting excitedly with Lexa and touching her arm and laughing too hard. Lexa looks pleasantly surprised with the amount of attention she’s getting and she shyly smiles at the girl before ducking her head.

 _That must be Costia,_ Clarke thinks to herself. Lexa spent two months on her phone, texting the other girl senseless until she accidentally dropped her device into the lake while out for a daily morning run. Clarke doesn’t remember seeing the other girl so distressed at the loss and now she understands why.

“They look cute together,” Clarke says out loud.

Octavia shoots her a look. “I was talking about Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome but yeah, the other two behind _do_ look like a couple.” She doesn’t seem so interested about Lexa and Costia, because she’s currently eyeing the guy with a hunger that Clarke only sees whenever she’s faced with pizza. The comparison is slightly terrifying.

Clarke ignores the unwanted feeling in her chest when Lexa passes by without noticing her. Octavia grins cheekily at the guy, who returns the gesture with a small, soft smile.

“That’s it,” Octavia says, when they round a corner, “I’m officially in love.”

Raven pops out of nowhere, her hands and neck and cheeks all plastered with charcoal and water paint. She looks like something from a tribal movie and Clarke grins at the comparison. She and Octavia stare at her long and hard enough for Raven to sigh and mutter something about trampling all over Mr. Wallace Sr.’s art supplies while hurrying for History.

“Raven,” Octavia says, serious enough that Raven stops rummaging around in her bag to look at her in confusion, “Do you know the tall, hot guy with the shaved head, broad shoulders and nice personality?”

“Lincoln Grounds?” Raven answers immediately, shrugging when Octavia squeals with glee, “He’s the only guy I know who fits the description. I met him over the summer, I think. He usually stops by the shop to pick up supplies for his dad.”

While Octavia is gushing over her new found soulmate, Clarke slams her locker shut and tries not to brood over the fact that Lexa has found somebody else to fawn over too.

//

Not everything about Clarke and Lexa’s friendship is all about talking to each other on the phone during late nights and then knowing each other Starbucks’s order and repeating inside jokes until the other is doubled over laughing so hard. It’s messy, too, because Clarke is the kind of person who says everything out loud, who isn’t scared to say her feelings, who wants and knows how to feel validated about her problems and etc. Lexa is the type of person to pull back, to hide her feelings and emotions, to easily slip into a mask of indifference and mild defiance. They’re perfect for each other—they’ve both acknowledged that fact plenty of times—and their pieces fit but sometimes the pieces can press too hard upon another.

They get into a fight about none other than Finn Collins. It starts off small at first, with a weekly sleepover and Lexa commenting that Clarke’s been spending a lot of time with Finn and Raven. She tries to keep her tone neutral but must come off sounding bitter and vaguely jealous. Clarke looks up from where she’s been preparing the movie and scowls at Lexa’s look of indifference.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands.

Lexa raises her eyebrows. “It doesn’t mean anything,” she says.

Clarke puts down the movie, still glaring at her. “Well, you made it sound like it meant something,” she tells her best friend accusingly, “So what if I spend a lot of time with Finn and Raven? They’re my friends—they like me.”

Lexa’s starting to get annoyed as well because it was just a comment and she didn’t mean anything by it but now Clarke’s looking at her and locking her jaw and she knows that she can’t drop this subject unless Clarke has fully breached it. She does that a lot and Lexa’s always grateful for it but now she’s just plain pissed off.

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” she snaps.

“Are you going to tell me that I look desperate too?” Clarke says.

Lexa’s eyes narrow and she sits up from where she’s been lying against Clarke’s bed. Romeo falls against the empty space behind her. “What the hell are you talking about?” she growls lowly and at the look of shame on Clarke’s face, she presses on, harder this time, “Who told you that?”

“Just Murphy,” Clarke mutters.

“What did he say?”

“He told me that I looked desperate, clinging to the pair of Finn and Raven. Because it’s obvious that she loves him and Finn loves her too but he likes me and I don’t know what to do with that. Murphy also said something about me looking like I want to break them up or something, which is stupid, because they’re not even dating. They’re just really close friends and I don’t _want_ to break them up.” Clarke exhales a loud breath, rubbing her eyes. “I like Finn. So what? I’m not in love with him or anything.”

Lexa tightens her jaw. “But you want to be,” she accuses.

Clarke glares at her. “I’m not like that,” she says, “I don’t want Finn like _that_.”

“God, you’re being delusional!” Lexa yells, flinching at the sound of her voice, “Of course you want him! I’ve been spending the past five years listening to you talk about how he’s so annoying and that he hogs your drawings and that he makes you stupid necklaces, which I’m glad is gone by the way—because damn it, Clarke, he’s not worth it.”

“The necklace was a onetime thing!” Clarke screeches. Then understanding dawns on her features as she stares long and hard at Lexa. “Wait; were you the one who _threw_ it away?”

The silence that follows is answer enough and hurt flashes across Clarke’s face before anger replaces it. She stands up from where she’s seated and then throws a pillow at Lexa’s face. The gesture hurts and Lexa’s standing up too because there’s no way in hell she’s going to let Clarke push her like that.

“Have you wanted to sabotage my chance with him all this time?” Clarke questions, pained and incredulous. There are tears in her eyes but Lexa’s too angry to care about the fact that she’s hurting her best friend.

“What _chance_ , Clarke?” she says, “Like you said, he loves Raven.”

“But he’s in love with _me_!” Clarke shouts and then clamps her hand against her mouth, looking as if she wants nothing more than for the ground to swallow her up.

Lexa’s eyes widen and she grows quiet, because she doesn’t know what else to say.

“He’s in love with me,” Clarke repeats. She looks at Lexa then and there’s something so strangely _odd_ about the way she’s staring. Lexa’s breath catches in her throat and she remembers Clarke’s fifth birthday all over again, with Clarke wearing the crown and looking at Lexa the same way she’s looking at her right now, partly with hope and partly with sadness.

Lexa stays quiet and Clarke continues, “Being in love with someone and loving them are two very different things.”

“No, they’re not.” Lexa’s voice comes off cold and detached. She feels as if someone has doused her with cold water because she’s shaking and gasping slightly and wanting nothing more than to run away. She thinks about Clarke’s fifth birthday, thinks about her goddamn realization, thinks about how she’s ninety-nine percent sure that she _loves_ Clarke Griffin. The other one percent has to wonder if she’s _in love_ with her but she pushes the thought away.

Clarke looks disappointed. “Yes, they are,” she says quietly.

Somehow, it feels like they’re no longer talking about Finn and Raven so Lexa grabs her blanket and pillow from the bed and storms outside, saying that she’ll just go back home for the remainder of the night.

(She tells herself that she’s _not_ in love with Clarke Griffin. It’s final but she has to wonder how many times she’s told herself those words and the other time she fails to convince herself.)

//

Clarke doesn’t talk to Lexa for two whole weeks.

She wakes up with Romeo pressed against her side and her eyes catch on the words written with Lexa’s sloppy five-year-old writing on the white shirt. _Please don’t eat paint and die and leave me alone in this world_ , she reads and she has to marvel at living proof that Lexa was once dependent and completely unhinged with her emotions. She can’t remember the last time Lexa has said _I love you_ or _Please don’t leave me_. She usually just clenches her jaw and pretends that she’s not feeling anything. It’s stupid, because Clarke has seen this girl crying over Fred Weasley’s death and looking absolutely pained when she watches war documentaries.

It’s a Saturday, so Clarke allows herself a few moments of peaceful silence before her entire brain is basically screaming at her to get up already, which she does half a minute later. She puts Romeo away and then walks over to her study table, where she’s spent the past week drawing her frustration and anger into paper. There are plenty of sketches sitting in front of her, her eyes catching Finn’s unfinished face, Raven’s dark eyes and her father’s figure standing by the doorway with his arms crossed. She turns a page and sucks in a deep breath when she remembers that she’s spent most of last night trying to recreate Lexa’s face displayed with different emotions.

It’s a bit daunting, when she realizes that she can’t remember the last time Lexa screamed at her out of pure anger, except for the fight two weeks ago; or the last time Lexa laughed so hard she was practically doubled over and crying. Clarke’s spent her sophomore year hanging out with her close group of friends and she only occasionally catches Lexa in school for lunch or in class. Lexa has been spending an abnormal amount of time with a girl named Costia and Lincoln, whom Octavia is still pining over.

It hits her right there and then—she’s about to lose Lexa. She can feel it, feel their connection basically getting screwed over and over again. She can feel Lexa by the edge of her fingertips, walking away from her and she’s so close to losing her forever that she nearly grabs her phone and punches the brunette’s speed dial.

She stops herself, however, when her eyes fall back on the page. She sits down and puts her phone away, running her fingers through her hair and letting out a deep sigh.

There are seven portraits of Lexa all in all. The first is of Lexa, with her usual stoic mask of indifference, staring hard into a distance. The second is of her smiling, closed-lip and polite eyes. The third is of her laughing, the gleam of her teeth noticeable even in charcoal and her forest green eyes crinkling at the sides. The fourth is of the brunette pissed off and angry, jaw tightly clenched and a fire in her gaze that Clarke can’t manage to portray into paper. The fifth portrait is different because it shows Lexa sleeping, features relaxed and looking like her age. When Clarke’s eyes move to the sixth drawing, her heart clenches because it depicts a picture of Lexa looking at Costia, eyes soft with a barely noticeable smile gracing her lips. She looks loving and supportive and Clarke cannot remember the last time Lexa looked at her like _that_. She only catches glimpses of this look whenever she joins Lexa and Costia for lunch once a week. Finally, the seventh shows Lexa the last time Clarke had seen her, tense and agitated, eyes full of sadness and mouth turned down at the sides. She both looks terrified and distressed and Clarke’s heart clenches at the sight of it.

Her thoughts are interrupted by someone knocking on the door. She turns around, some part of her expecting to see Lexa but disappointment fills her bones when she realizes that it’s just her father.

“Hey, kid,” her dad greets.

Clarke smiles at him. “Hi, dad,” she mumbles.

He walks into the room, looking around. Clarke closes her sketchpad and turns her full attention towards him.

“So, Lexa’s stopped coming over,” he observes, his voice low and it almost sounds as if he’s talking to himself but Clarke knows her dad and she knows that this is an opening to a long lecture about keeping your best friends close.

Clarke really doesn’t need that lecture.

“We got into a fight,” she mutters.

Her dad nods, perches himself against the vanity table. He picks up a charcoal pencil and plays with it idly for a few seconds before he says, “Go on.”

“It was about some stupid guy,” Clarke mutters. A stupid guy, who doesn’t know what he wants since he keeps coming to her even when he already has Raven.

“I didn’t think Lexa liked guys,” her father comments offhandedly.

“She doesn’t,” Clarke is quick to interject and frowns, realizing that Lexa has never shared any sentiments about some guys she has her eyes on. She suddenly remembers Raven’s fifteenth birthday party and the shock on Lexa’s face when Clarke told her that she and Octavia kissed. Then she thinks to Costia and the pieces fall into place and _oh_. It’s obvious. Lexa isn’t into guys at _all_.

“I should probably apologize now,” Clarke mutters, because who cares if Lexa likes girls?

“How big was this fight?” her dad asks.

“It was loud,” Clarke admits, “and she’s got this annoying habit of clamming up, you know? She doesn’t say what she’s feeling—it’s like she wants to be a robot or something. It’s so stupid.”

“People have unique in dealing with emotions.”

“Yeah but things are starting to be different. I can feel it. She’s pulling away,” Lexa insists, “and I don’t want her to pull away. I want her to come crawling back and stay best friends with me forever because that’s what best friends are _supposed_ to do.” She sucks in a deep breath, tears pricking the back of her eyes. She wipes them off and glares heatedly at her sketchpad.

Her father laughs and then walks over to where she’s standing, pulling her in for a side-hug. She inhales in his musky scent and closes her eyes.

“Clarke,” he says, “If Lexa’s the type of person who clams up occasionally when faced with her feelings, I don’t think she’s the one who’s going to come crawling back. I think you have to suck it up and apologize for the both of you.”

Wrinkling her nose, Clarke pulls away. “I thought you were on my side,” she whines.

“I am,” he insists but then his eyes soften and he smiles again, “but I’m also on Lexa’s side too.”

//

Lexa crosses her arms and leans back against her chair, glaring half-heartedly at her unfinished homework. She doesn’t necessarily hate Math but she hates the amount of homework she’s been given over the weekend, knowing full well that she could be doing something more important, such as moan over the fight she and Clarke had three weeks ago.

Once again, she contemplates the effectiveness of American education when her door swings open and her father walks in slowly, looking cautious.

“Alexandria,” he says and Lexa feels her spine straightening as she regards her father. He never calls her by her real name, unless he’s trying to be affectionate or trying to soften bad news. Based on the grim look he has on his face, Lexa can tell that it’s bad news.

“What is it?” Lexa asks, already standing halfway from her chair.

“There’s been an accident,” her father mumbles, looking both sad and dazed as he beckons Lexa over.

“Is Grandma alright?” Her grandmother has been falling ill quite recently but when her dad shakes his head, she has to move to another possible victim. “Did Mercutio get run over by a truck?”

Mercutio is her German Shepherd, named specifically for Romeo Montague’s best friend. She got him when she was six years old and both she and Clarke adored the pup, almost to the point that Lexa spent two years sleeping with him by her bed until her father enforced a no-dogs-on-the-bed rule. Come to think of it, she hasn’t seen Mercutio around the house for this day, which must mean that either he’s the one with the accident or he’s simply just wandering around the neighborhood.

The pain in her chest loosens slightly when her dad shakes his head again.

“Then who got into an accident?” she asks, her voice cautious.

Her father sighs, realizing that prolonging the inevitable probably won’t soften the blow. He looks over at his daughter, sadness filling every inch of his aging features and Lexa’s about to ask again when he opens his mouth and says, “Clarke’s dad.” He takes another deep breath. “His car crashed on the way to the hospital to pick up Abby. He’s dead.”

Time stops. Lexa feels as if someone’s just punched her in the gut and left her wheezing on the side of the road. Her mouth drops open and she’s speechless because Jake Griffin can’t be dead. He _can’t_ be—there must be a mistake. She thinks back to Clarke’s dad always commenting about Clarke’s fifth birthday gift, always taking the time to catch up with her life, always smiling and laughing and generally being the greatest dad Clarke could’ve ever had.

She thinks of Clarke and she doesn’t know what’s gotten into her. They’re still not technically talking but her dad just died and she needs a friend right now and goddamn Finn Collins. Clarke needs her and Lexa is going to push through heaven and hell just to get to her.

She moves away from her father’s embrace and hurries downstairs, pounding across the distance between their houses. Clarke’s house has never looked more solemn than it does right now but Lexa doesn’t let it stop her. She opens the gate, walks across the lawn and stays directly in front of the door. She raises her fist to knock when the realization hits her right there and then. What if Clarke doesn’t want to see her?

She knocks anyway but after a few minutes of standing around and running her fingers through her messy hair, no one answers so she pushes the door open, frowning when she realizes that all the rooms are dark. Nobody has bothered to turn on the lights or even lock the door, which worries Lexa endlessly. She walks upstairs to Clarke’s room, hesitating.

“Clarke?”

Silence. Lexa takes a deep breath and pushes the door open, her eyes falling on the figure covered by blankets on the bed. The lights are all turned off and the window is open, letting a cold draft in. Lexa walks inside and nearly stumbles into an overturned chair. When she looks around more closely, she sees that Clarke has gone into a rampage. All of her sketches are strewn across the floor, the mirror at the vanity table is smashed, her books flung carelessly on the ground and a picture frame of her dad lying at the foot of Lexa’s feet, the glass crushed.

“Clarke,” Lexa calls out again, slightly alarmed. She wonders if she should leave, come back another day but then she hears a sob from the bed and hurries to Clarke’s side, minding the mess on the ground. She sits down on the very edge and stretches a hand out, hesitant and mildly scared.

“Clarke,” she says and third time must be the charm because Clarke pulls off the blanket from her head and stares at her.

To say that Clarke looks like crap is an understatement. Her golden hair is a tangled mess on top of her head, her eyes are bloodshot and there are still tear tracks against her cheeks. Her mouth, usually smiling and laughing, is turned down at the corners and slightly shaking. She sniffs and wipes at her face. Lexa doesn’t mind—she’s seen Clarke cry plenty of times, during tug of war, during Marvel movies, times where they spend all night studying and Clarke can’t seem to understand the question in front of her. It’s no longer a surprise anymore and this isn’t the first time she’s felt such sorrow at the sight of it.

“What are you doing here?” Clarke questions, her voice scratchy. Lexa takes it as a good sign that she hasn’t screamed at her face yet.

Her throat bobs painfully as she says, “I heard about your dad.” She pauses, not missing the way Clarke’s face tightens. “I thought you might need a friend, or at least a punching bag.”

Clarke laughs but it sounds hollow. Lexa brings her knees up to her chest and stares pointedly at her best friend, who avoids her gaze.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” Clarke murmurs, wiping her eyes, “Mom’s car broke down on the way to the hospital and Dad had to wake up and get her from the night shift. He must’ve been so tired because he fell asleep on the wheel and didn’t see the truck coming right at him. They told me that he died instantly, that he didn’t feel pain.”

Lexa’s chest constricts. “I’m sorry,” she says.

“I was supposed to say that first,” Clarke tells her mournfully. When Lexa frowns and tilts her head to the side in confusion, the blonde continues, “Last week, Dad told me that I was the one who’s supposed to say sorry first because it was clear that you weren’t going to do it. The fight we had? It was stupid and I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Clarke, I—” Lexa doesn’t exactly know what to say. A few phrases of _I should be the one to apologize_ or _I don’t blame you for anything_ but she’s never been the one to express her emotions fully. Instead, she lets the words fall from her mouth and just stares at Clarke imploringly, almost wishing that her regret and pain are written plainly across her face for her best friend to understand.

“Can you ever forgive me?” Clarke asks, her voice small.

Lexa shakes her head. “I forgave you the minute I walked out the door,” she says, reaching forward and pulling her best friend into a hug. She doesn’t remember the last time they’ve hugged, which is a bit terrifying now that she thinks about it. They have spent most of the year apart than together and the fact sends swords into her heart. And even though they’re already touching, Lexa still misses her terribly.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” Clarke repeats against her neck, her arms wrapping around Lexa’s shoulders tightly, “He wasn’t supposed to die. He—he didn’t even get to attend my graduation.” A sob rises from the blonde’s throat and Lexa tightens their embrace, can feel tears prickling the back of her eyes. “He is _supposed_ to be there for everything good that’ll happen in my life. He’s supposed to be there when I first open up my gallery, he’s supposed to walk me down the aisle for my wedding, he’s supposed to die—like, sixty years from now, with graying hair and his grandchildren around his knees.” She says all of these while simultaneously trying not to sob but it doesn’t work and her words come out with hiccups.

Lexa hums, rubbing her hand against Clarke’s back comfortingly. The blonde buries her nose against Lexa’s shoulder, her tears falling on the crook of Lexa’s neck.

“Please don’t leave me,” Clarke whispers, her voice catching.

“Never,” Lexa promises, closing her eyes.

//

The funeral is quiet. A lot of people turn up, claiming that in some ways, Jake Griffin has reached out and touched their hearts, saying that he was one of the best people they’ve ever known and adding funny anecdotes that make Clarke laugh even though she’s crying inside. She’s been crying a lot these past few days, always on her pillow or against Lexa’s shoulder. Her mom has been stuck in her room for the past two weeks and she’s only coaxed out when Clarke makes her dinner or when she needs to go to the bathroom.

Lexa’s a huge help too. She’s kept good on her promise, staying by Clarke’s side, never leaving her even though it means that she’s skipped school for the past two weeks, sleeping next to her on the bed and making her breakfast in the morning. Clarke is glad to have her back—ecstatic even—but she can’t afford to be happy when her dad’s rotting in a grave and the house seems so desperately _empty_ without his presence.

It starts raining the same time they start lowering the coffin six feet into the ground. Clarke shivers, wrapping her arms around herself as the water drenches her. She allows herself to cry, because the tears mix in with the rain easily enough and nobody can tell the difference. Except for Lexa, who is standing next to her and staring at the hole in the ground with her jaw clenched. She must notice Clarke’s hands shaking because she pulls out an umbrella from her bag and covers them both with it, her arm reaching out to drape across Clarke’s shoulders.

“Thanks,” Clarke murmurs, instinctively stepping closer.

Lexa takes a deep breath. “Don’t mention it,” she says in return.

Clarke stares at the coffin being lowered into the ground and then lets her gaze flicker over to where her mom is standing to her left. Abby looks absolutely distressed, tears streaming her eyes and pain flickering across her features every now and then. Clarke’s heart stutters at the sight and quickly reaches forward to grab a hold of her mother’s hand.

Abby nods at her but doesn’t pull her eyes away from her deceased husband.

Clarke glances around the crowd, seeing her father’s coworkers, her cousins from overseas, relatives she’s forgotten the names to. She sees Finn, Raven, Octavia, Wells and Costia standing as a small group to the side. Finn has his arm across Raven’s shoulders and Wells has his head bowed, almost like he’s praying. Octavia’s make-up has smeared itself across her eyes. Costia is holding a bunch of flowers in her hands, looking mournful. Clarke feels a rush of gratitude towards them, knowing that they’re for her, even though they never knew what Jake Griffin was like.

She looks up at Lexa, whose eyes have gone misty. Using her free arm, she wraps it around Lexa’s waist, nuzzling her cheek against the warmth of her best friend’s shoulder. Lexa seems to freeze but relaxes into the movement, sighing softly when she hears Clarke sniffing.

Ten minutes later, the funeral ends and the guests all head home. Clarke’s friends quickly steps over towards where’s still standing, offering their deepest regrets and condolences. Wells clasps her arm tightly, giving her a small smile and Finn pats her shoulder almost as if he’s afraid that she’ll crumble if he gets too close. Raven and Octavia both fling themselves into her arms and Clarke sucks in a deep breath, wishing that she was already home so that she can cry herself to sleep all over again.

Then it’s Costia standing in front of her, stretching out the brightly colored daisies she has brought along. Clarke accepts the bouquet, smiling when Costia wishes for the best.

“I didn’t know what else to give,” Costia admits, rubbing the back of her neck, “and I know a thing or two about flowers so I hope you like them.”

“They’re lovely,” Clarke insists and she side-steps away from the group and places the flowers on her father’s recent grave. Lexa follows her, still keeping the umbrella above both of their heads. When they head back to their friends, Raven says,

“We’ll drag you for pizza once you feel better, okay?”

Clarke nods. “Okay.”

“See you around, Griffin. Don’t be a stranger.”

They all leave and Costia passes by Lexa with a small, hesitant smile on her face. Lexa smiles back at her and once all of their friends are gone and it’s just the two of them, the slightly happy mood quickly plummets and Clarke takes another deep breath before letting her tears fall all over again.

“Hey, hey,” Lexa says, grabbing her arm and turning her around gently.

Clarke can feel the rain spattering against her cheeks and on the exposed portions of her arms. She doesn’t bother to wipe away her tears when Lexa steps in front of her, still trying to keep the umbrella balanced.

“Take a deep breath,” Lexa tells her, forest green eyes full of worry.

Clarke does. Pain stumbles into her chest and she lets out another sob.

“Clarke,” Lexa says her name like a prayer, hushed and whispered.

“I’m okay,” Clarke insists, chewing the inside of her cheek as she shuffles her feet, “I’m okay. It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

Clarke doesn’t deny it. Instead, she glances back at the flowers on her father’s grave, trying hard not to remember the last time she’s seen Jake Griffin alive. She pushes the images of her dad walking into her room and waking her up to tell her that he’s picking up her mom, of him smiling and kissing her forehead and saying “I love you, kid,” of him shutting the door softly behind him, his footsteps lightly treading against the floor. She tries not to remember any of that because she knows that if she’ll let the full weight of the fact that he’s gone forever slam into her, then she’ll never stop hurting.

“Hey, Clarke,” Lexa calls out to her again and when Clarke doesn’t budge from where she’s standing, the brunette throws the umbrella to the side and envelops the blonde in a bone crushing hug, leaving no room for argument. Clarke gasps at how tight Lexa is holding onto her and it takes her a moment but soon enough, she grabs at the back of Lexa’s black dress and tightens her grip. Her tears are falling again, hot against her cheeks but they cool down shortly, since the rain is still beating hard against their intertwined figures. But she doesn’t care. God, she doesn’t care if her make-up is running or if they look like a bunch of idiots in the downpour or if her mom is probably worried sick about her. What matters is Lexa pressed against her, holding her, keeping her close and it takes Clarke a short while to realize that the other girl is crying too.

Clarke buries her face against her best friend’s shoulder, biting her lip so hard that she tastes blood. Lexa holds her head and continues to cry, little sniffles escaping past her lips and they stay like that for as long as necessary, completely indifferent to the world watching them.

//

When Costia kisses her for the first time, Lexa almost wishes that its Clarke’s lips pressed against hers. _Almost_.

They’re sitting in Lexa’s room, doing homework and occasionally laughing at the open tabs on Tumblr and 9GAG that they have on their laptops. Costia looks wrenchingly beautiful in front of her, hair curled over one shoulder, eyes trained on the equations which lie open in front of her. She’s wearing another floral dress, which hikes up at her thighs and exposes the soft skin Lexa has admired in the past three years they’ve been friends. Lexa finds herself staring on more than one occasion and it’s starting to get creepy because Costia’s already on the sixth problem and she’s still on the second one.

She’s about to look away when Costia glances up, catching her gaze. She gulps and nearly kicks Mercutio on the face when she struggles to keep her feet still and her hands even stiller. The dog barks at her before scurrying out of a room in a hurry, leaving her red-faced and Costia staring in confusion.

“Sorry,” Lexa mutters.

Costia laughs. “What are you sorry for?” she asks.

“I—” Lexa gestures plainly at the homework in front of her, hoping that Costia will drop it.

She doesn’t. Instead, she pushes herself up on her elbows, grinning wickedly at the red-faced brunette. It’s no secret that they’ve been flirting with each other the moment they met and that Lexa has spent the past three years crushing desperately on her friend but never having the guts to do anything about it. Lincoln has urged her plenty of times but Lexa’s deathly afraid of being rejected and of losing the first friend she’s made all on her own.

(Some part of her thinks that Clarke is one of the reasons why she’s never made a move but she tells herself that it’s stupid, because Clarke doesn’t care about the people whom she’s been flirting with for more than thirty months now.)

“Have you ever kissed anybody, Lexa?” Costia asks, breaking her out of her trance.

Lexa’s mouth drops. She’s greatly reminded of the first time they met, when Costia broke through all the rules and asked her if she had kissed any girls before. She feels her cheeks burn at the thought. It’s kind of pathetic, really, that she’s never been kissed by anyone or that she’s never had the guts to kiss anybody else. And she’s already seventeen years old. She’s officially reached a new level of low.

“No need to be ashamed,” Costia says cheekily, crawling over to where Lexa’s seated.

“What—” Lexa stutters but closes her mouth again when Costia inhales sharply at their close proximity. They’re inches away from each other now and Lexa’s senses are being viciously attacked by Costia’s flowery aroma.

“We just have to change that,” Costia murmurs, a silent question in her eyes being asked. Lexa nods without thinking and Costia grins, her face as radiant as the sun. Leaning forward and pressing her mouth against Lexa’s, Costia is gentle and soft and Lexa’s heart is rapidly thundering inside her chest, to the point that she’s sure it’ll collapse due to exhaustion soon. She drops her pen and grabs the sides of Costia’s face, deepening the kiss and trying desperately hard not to imagine that it’s Clarke she’s kissing and not the girl she’s been crushing on for the past three years.

//

Clarke glances up when her phone chimes with a new message, disregarding the homework that she’s been trying to answer for the past hour or so. It’s 12:18 AM and nobody should be up this late, especially not Lexa. But it’s her name that Clarke sees when she swipes the phone open and stares at the message.

 **Lexa <3 (12:18 AM): **Costia kissed me today.

 **Clarke Griffin (12:22 AM):** good for you???

 **Lexa <3 (12:23 AM): **:)

Clarke ignores the stab in her chest and types in another message.

 **Clarke Griffin (12:25 AM):** was it like the movies?

 **Lexa <3 (12:25 AM): **Better. It was perfect.

Clarke closes her eyes, hating the jealously and the anger that courses through her veins. She tells herself that it’s nothing; that it’s simply her being territorial but the thought of Lexa kissing somebody else and being so ridiculously happy about it—well, it strikes a hole into her heart. Clarke Griffin has kissed plenty of people in the past few years, especially during Raven’s awesome house parties and during times where Clarke just desperately wishes to forget about the pain of losing her dad. She’s also kissed Finn Collins last year, when he invited himself into her house and pressed her against the wall, his mouth desperate and hungry on hers.

Somehow, they’re still not dating. Which is weird, because Raven’s already found somebody else to fawn over, a guy named Kyle Wick who works with her at the garage. Maybe Finn’s waiting for something or maybe something’s in the way or maybe it’s because Clarke’s so desperately in love with her best friend that he _must_ see it as well—

 _No,_ Clarke tells herself fiercely, gripping her pen. She’s not in love with Lexa. She _loves_ Lexa, like a friend. Like a best friend. Surely, she’s mistaking her platonic feelings for romantic ones. Besides, she and Lexa have it good. If they suddenly decide to become something _more_ , then it’s a risk Clarke’s not willing to take. She doesn’t want to lose the most important person in her life just because she wants to kiss her or anything.

Sighing, Clarke looks back down at her phone, where a new message has popped up.

 **Lexa <3 (12:31 AM): **I should head back to sleep. I’ve been lying awake for three hours now.

 **Clarke Griffin (12:31 AM):** omg are you having sex dreams about your girlfriend?

 **Lexa <3 (12:32 AM): **I hate you.

 **Lexa <3 (12:32 AM): **also, she’s not my girlfriend. Even though we’ve been flirting for the past three years or so.

 **Lexa <3 (12:33 AM): **but I also want her to be, you know?

 **Lexa <3 (12:33 AM): **am I being ridiculously sappy right now?

 **Clarke Griffin (12:33 AM):** Yes.

 **Clarke Griffin (12:33 AM):** But it’s very cute.

 **Lexa <3 (12:36 AM): **Ha ha.

 **Lexa <3 (12:36 AM): **I hate you.

 **Clarke Griffin (12: 37 AM):** No, you don’t.

 **Lexa <3 (12:37 AM): **No, I don’t.

 **Lexa <3 (12:37 AM): **Good night, Clarke.

 **Clarke Griffin (12:38 AM):** Good night, Lexa. Have fun dreaming about your GIRLFRIEND.  

Clarke decides to erase the heart sign next to Lexa’s name, because she doesn’t have the right to love somebody when they obviously love someone else.

//

Three weeks after Lexa and Costia officially become a couple; Finn Collins becomes Clarke’s boyfriend.

The timing is kind of suspicious but Lexa doesn’t think too much about it, mostly because she’s happy with Costia and Clarke is presumably happy with Finn too. But God forbid they double date. They tried it once, and Lexa nearly punched Finn in the face and Clarke looked like she was constipated the whole time. That should’ve meant something but Lexa just passes it off as Clarke being a territorial best friend. Costia has commented on it plenty of times, saying that Lexa and Clarke are practically glued to the hip, which kind of pisses her off because when people think of Lexa Woods, they think of party animal Clarke Griffin.

It’s that train of thought that pushes Lexa into doing something that she’s been scared to do for some time now. Costia’s been sitting in her bed for two hours straight this afternoon, studying about a big test she has on Physics. Lexa is sitting on the chair and watching her study, because there’s no denying that Costia is beautiful and that Lexa is insanely and wildly attracted to her mind and body. It’s too soon to say that they’re in love but they’re getting there. They have only been dating for four weeks.

Costia is reading a paragraph on something about light refraction when Lexa stands from her chair, easily slides in next to her girlfriend and places her hand on her exposed thigh. Costia’s wardrobe mostly consists of floral dresses and skater skirts, which gives Lexa the advantage of cupping a few desirable places. 

Costia groans. “Lex,” she says, shooting her a well-earned glare, “I need to study.”

“Five minute break?” Lexa asks flirtatiously.

Costia seems to consider this, before she pushes the books away from the bed and straddles Lexa, her mouth loving and desperate on Lexa’s lips. Mercutio’s been thankfully running in the lawn all the day, so there isn’t any dog hair stuck on the mattress because Costia gently eases Lexa down on the bed, knees on either side of the girl’s legs as she peppers Lexa with kisses.

“Make it ten and you have yourself a deal,” Costia whispers, sighing happily when Lexa reaches forward and kisses her jaw.

“Make it half an hour and I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow morning,” Lexa murmurs, her hands moving along her girlfriend’s back.

Costia smiles and they make out for an indefinitely long period of time and it’s suddenly getting very hot and Lexa’s sort of gasping with want and fear and Costia is murmuring sweet promises against her lips and touching her cheeks, her neck, her collarbone, fingers running up and down her arms. Lexa shivers and nips lightly at Costia’s ear, earning her a laugh from the other girl.

“You’re playful,” Costia says cheekily.

Lexa smiles, running her fingers over Costia’s long hair. “I just—” she stops, takes a deep breath before carefully pulling the straps of her girlfriend’s dress down, eyes locked firmly with Costia’s. “I just want this.”

Costia inhales sharply, her pupils dilated and her cheeks flushed. Lexa bites her lip before moving her fingers down to the hem of the dress, her palms cupping Costia’s bottom, running her hands underneath the fabric and idly toying with the strap of Costia’s underwear.

“Are you sure?” Costia asks, eyeing her carefully.

Lexa licks her lower lips and opens her mouth. Suddenly, the image of Clarke comes into mind and she almost freezes underneath her girlfriend but she tries desperately to pretend that everything is okay. She doesn’t care if she’s got the memory of Clarke smiling and laughing burned behind her eyelids or the fact that her blood always boils whenever she sees Finn casually running his hands up and down Clarke’s arms, Finn kissing her at the end of class, Finn smiling at her as if she puts the stars in the sky. She doesn’t care if Clarke’s happy with someone else who isn’t _her_. Because they’ve spent freshmen and sophomore year more apart than together and she’s seen Clarke hanging out with Raven and Octavia and the rest of her large group of friends. But the more she tries to tell herself that she _doesn’t_ care, it just becomes more obvious that she does.

“I’m sure,” Lexa says firmly, her eyes never leaving Costia’s.

“Lexa…”

“Costia,” Lexa says, sitting up and placing her forehead against her girlfriend’s, inhaling her sweet aroma, “I want this. I want _you_.”

Costia kisses her again, mouth shaking and Lexa spends the remainder of the night holding her as they take a new step forward into their relationship. 

(Lexa thinks about Clarke again but the minute Costia’s fingers grab at her zipper, all thoughts of the blonde get thrown out of the window.)

//

Clarke’s phone vibrates halfway into class and ignoring the pointed glare that Raven shoots her way, she pulls it out of her pocket and hides it underneath the desk, swiping the screen and reading the message Lexa sent her. It’s kind of alarming, because Lexa is not the type of person who texts in the middle of the class. This must be important then.

 **Lexa (10:36 AM):** Can’t meet you for lunch today. Costia’s going to drive me somewhere.

 **Clarke Griffin (10:36 AM):** Boo.

 **Clarke Griffin (10:37 AM):** :(((((

 **Lexa (10:38 AM):** Go cry yourself a river.

 **Clarke Griffin (10:38 AM):** Rude.

 **Lexa (10:41 AM):** Also, I wanted to tell you something today but I guess it has to wait. It’s really important.

 **Clarke Griffin (10:41 AM):** LEXA. U JUST CAN’T DROP A BOMB LIKE THAT. TELL ME _._

 **Clarke Griffin (10:41 AM):** and don’t you dare ignore me.

 **Clarke Griffin (10:42 AM):** Lexa Lexa Lexa Lexa Lexa Lexa

 **Clarke Griffin (10:42 AM):** Lexaaa do u want me to spam u??

 **Clarke Griffin (10:43 AM):** Lexaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa teeeeeell meeeeeeeee

 **Lexa (10:44 AM):** I slept with Costia last night.

“FUCK!” Clarke says out loud, slapping a hand into her mouth the minute the words are out. Raven doubles over her table laughing so hard that she can’t stop for several seconds and Mr. Kane is disapprovingly glaring hard at her and the rest of the class are either staring or joining Raven in her joy _._ Most of them are doing the latter.

“Detention, Ms. Griffin,” Mr. Kane says, shaking his head, “I thought you’d be better than that. Put your phone away.”

Clarke swallows painfully and nods. She glances at the message one more time before shoving the phone into her bag. Her heart is pounding like a persistent drumming inside her chest and she suddenly feels like she can’t breathe anymore. Raven is still giggling next to her but she sounds like she’s standing far away and Clarke almost feels like she’s hearing everything through a long hole. A ringing has started in her left ear and she quickly tries to shake herself from her reverie.

Lexa slept with Costia last night. While Clarke was Skyping with Finn about their next date, Lexa was probably kissing Costia, touching her, moaning her name, loving her with every bit of her heart and the thought leaves a bitter aftertaste in Clarke’s mouth, makes her want to puke out her breakfast.

She passes a note to Raven.

**_Party this Saturday?_ **

**What’s the occasion?**  

**_Need to unwind._ **

**I’ll invite the whole school.**

**_You’re a godsend, Raven Reyes. Thank you <3 _ **

**Don’t mention it. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Party Animal Griffin.**

Clarke smiles, even though some part of her feels like crying.

//

Lincoln looks up from the book he’s reading and regards Lexa quietly.

“What is it?” Lexa asks, writing a complicated equation on the margins of her notebook.

“You just seem—” Lincoln purses his lips, almost as if the answer scares him “—happier.”

Lexa hums, trying not to think about last night, when Costia had kissed her right after the—she still can’t think about it without wanting to smile and if she smiles now, then Lincoln will know that something’s definitely up. So she shrugs and turns to another page of her Math book, fighting the urge to break out into a song.

“It’s nothing,” she says, “I just had a good grade in my History test today.”

“You’re practically _radiating_ with happiness,” Lincoln points out.

“I studied for three weeks just to get a good mark.”

“Your eyes are brighter.”

“It’s the sun.”

“ _Lexa_.” Lincoln suddenly laughs, making Lexa look up and narrow her eyes at him. “What happened? Did Costia propose to you or something? Or did Finn Collins get run over by a truck?”

Lexa’s cheeks redden and she scowls, wanting nothing than to grab her Math book and hit Lincoln’s face with it but she knows that if she does, then his girlfriend Octavia will pop out of nowhere and burn her on the spot. So she resolves to simply rolling her eyes at the excited look he has on his features.

“Fine, something happened,” she mumbled.

“So, Finn really _did_ get hit by a truck?”

“No, you dumbass. Costia and I just—” Okay, she’s grinning now and her cheeks are hurting and God, that night is probably one of the best nights she’s ever going to have. The more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that all those stupid Taylor Swift songs about love were completely right. She looks at Costia and she just _loves_ her. Costia understands her. She’s not pushy, she doesn’t cry out in frustration or throw things, she doesn’t breach topics which Lexa thinks are uncomfortable—she’s not Clarke and Lexa hasn’t yet figured out if that’s a bad thing or not.

Lincoln fist bumps the air. “Did you do the dirty?” he asks, grinning.

Lexa flushes and flicks a pencil at him. He laughs, looking absolutely delighted. “Shut up, shut up, _shut up_ ,” Lexa hisses but he just smiles lazily and boops her nose.

“You _did_ do the dirty,” he says gleefully.

“Shut up.”

“You’re _in love_ ,” he says in a sing-song voice.

Lexa doesn’t bother to deny that because she _is_ in love. She’s always been in love with Costia, she realizes. Ever since they laid eyes on each other during Raven Reyes’s fourteenth birthday party. _It must’ve been fate_ , she thinks to herself because being with Costia, loving her and being loved by her—it feels so desperately and righteously _perfect_.

“Does Clarke know?” Suddenly, Lincoln’s voice has changed and Lexa tenses.

“Yes,” Lexa says carefully, ignoring the pointed look Lincoln throws her way. “She hasn’t replied to me about it, though. I kind of told her during class because she was threatening to spam me if I didn’t say it.”

“Do you think she’s pissed?”

Lexa frowns, not liking where this conversation is headed. “Why would she be pissed?” God, the blonde already has her popularity, a supposedly great boyfriend and she’s on top of her classes, neck-in-neck with Lexa. If Clarke’s pissed that Lexa has a girlfriend, then that’s just stupidly territorial. Not to mention very, very wrong.

Lincoln doesn’t think it’s a low possibility, however.

“It’s obvious,” he says, rolling his eyes when Lexa just stares him down, “She has feelings for you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

Lincoln wrinkles his nose. “Are you seriously _that_ oblivious not to notice the way she acts around you and Costia? I don’t think I’ve even seen you hang out this week because you’re both so busy with your love lives.”

Lexa shrugs, pushing the thought away. Clarke acts the way she is because she’s weirdly territorial and they’ve been the best of friends since they were four years old. Surely, having Lexa focus all of her attention to somebody who’s not _her_ must’ve been an unpleasant change and she’s just recently starting to act out.

(However, she can’t help but feel a small glimmer of hope at the thought of Clarke being genuinely jealous that Lexa has Costia but she pushes that insignificant feeling away because it’s not appropriate. She and Clarke are _just_ friends.)

“We’re just friends,” she voices this out to Lincoln.

“Right.” Lincoln obviously doesn’t believe her. Instead, he leans forward, smacking her on the forehead. She scowls at him, this time flicking her notebook at his face. He easily dodges. “Look,” he says, reaching down and picking up the fallen stationary, “You and Costia are one of the closest friends I have, okay? You gave me advice with Octavia and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it. But Costia cares about you, Lexa and I care about you too. So, you need to make sure that you’re not hurting anybody’s feelings by lying to yourself.”

Anger surges through her stomach and she grits her teeth before snarling, “I’m not lying to anybody.”

(She is. She’s been lying to herself ever since Clarke’s fifth birthday. Clarke had told her that loving someone and being in love with them are two very different things but Lexa still hasn’t let that information sunk in.)

Lincoln stares at her for a few seconds before nodding. He grabs his book and starts reading again, the conversation almost forgotten. But Lexa’s cheeks are flushed and she’s breathing heavily and her hands are shaking and yet she ignores all of it as she tries to finish her homework.

//

Clarke is really, really drunk.

Raven’s house parties are always generally wild but Clarke has always held her drink, sipping three or four glasses and then dancing to her heart’s content before collapsing on Raven’s bed upstairs. She’s never been black out drunk before but this time, she feels deliriously close to doing so.

She stumbles into a bathroom only to discover that Octavia and Lincoln have already taken residence in it. Lincoln stops sucking on O’s neck and glances at her with puzzlement. Octavia rolls her eyes, tells Clarke to find another place to pass out in and slams the door at her face. The loud noise makes her head spin and she really needs to go home now because she’s really close to puking on the floor and then collapsing on that said puke.

Pulling out her phone, she calls Finn.

“Hey,” he says in lieu of greeting.

“I need you to pick me up,” Clarke says, almost whining.

There’s a slight pause and then rustling in the background. Clarke hears Finn starting his car. “You’re at Raven’s right?” he asks, amusement coloring his tone.

“You know me so well,” Clarke flirts.

He chuckles, the sound low and deep. “I’ll be there in five. _Don’t_ pass out.”

He hangs up and Clarke heads downstairs. The party is still going on, Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake It Off’ blasting through the speakers. Raven is currently making out with Kyle Wick. Wells is dancing with Maya, Harper and Monroe on the dance floor. Jasper and Monty are both drawing dicks on each other’s face and laughing so hard that Monty’s drink comes out of his nose. The rest of the guests are either passed out or just laughing in strange corners of the room. Its 12 AM in the morning so that’s expected. Octavia’s older brother, Bellamy, is standing by the doorway to the living area, shaking his head with disapproval.

Clarke approaches him. “Great party, right?” she drawls.

“College parties are better,” Bellamy says. He’s visiting for the weekend, because he misses Octavia but will probably never say that out loud. He and Clarke are friendly with each other but he once slept with Raven when Finn kissed Clarke last year. That’s an experience that she never wants to think about again.

Clarke hums the song under her breath as she waits for Finn to arrive. Bellamy glances at her.

“How’s Lexa?” he asks.

Clarke shrugs, head pounding as she tries to think. She may or may not have shared a few personal stories about her best friend to Bellamy. It was _one_ time, when they were fighting and she needed someone to vent to. She was drunk and Bellamy was there, offering a listening ear and okay, she realizes now that she might’ve shared some things that she might not remember sharing at all.

“She’s fine,” Clarke answers, her tone neutral. She sways on her feet. “She’s got a girlfriend now.”

“Oh?” Bellamy smirks. “How do you feel about that?”

“Awesome.” Clarke must not sound convincing because Bellamy laughs. “I could practically jump in joy.”

“Griffin, you suck at this.”

Before Clarke can respond, the front door swings open and Finn walks in. He looks handsome as always, dark hair cropped neatly behind his ears. He immediately spots Clarke and Bellamy, walking over towards them with a smile plastered on his face.

“Dude,” he says, clapping Bellamy on the back, “I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“It was unexpected,” Bellamy answers, grinning. “I see that you two have finally worked out the sexual tension.”

“And I’m glad we did.” Finn wraps his arm around Clarke’s waist, pressing a kiss on the side of her head.

“We’re going to head out,” Clarke tells Bellamy, patting his hand, “Good luck with O. She’s making out with Lincoln upstairs. And also, Raven and Wick might actually start having sex on the floor. Please stop them. See you around.”

Bellamy scowls, as if the thought of controlling two girls’ sex lives is too traumatizing. Finn laughs as he practically carries Clarke to the front door, since she’s too drunk to start walking in a straight line. The night is cold so he takes off his jacket and drapes it across her bare shoulders. Clarke’s starting to think that Finn might probably be just one of the greatest boyfriends she’s ever going to have and that she should feel really lucky to have him fawning over her because they’ve spent too long walking around the elephant in the room. She _definitely_ shouldn’t be thinking about Lexa while he’s pressing his lips against hers and making sure she gets inside the car safely.

(It’s kind of hard not to, actually. Lexa’s been on her mind for days now.)

“You’re great,” she says the minute Finn slides into the driver’s seat.

Finn laughs. “I would hope so, since we’re dating.”

Clarke smiles at him, before pulling out her phone and reading through the last message Lexa sent. Her mind is still fuzzy but she can feel the familiar gut-wrenching feeling in her chest as the words stare right back at her. She shouldn’t be so surprised (and heartbroken?) that Lexa and Costia have finally expressed their love in a more intimate level but it still hurts all the same.

She looks over at Finn and tells herself that she’s _lucky_. Because she’s been chasing after him since they were ten and now, its seven years later and they’re finally together. She’s _lucky_.

(She doesn’t really believe it.)

They drive through the night and into the silent streets. Finn has thankfully kept the radio turned off since Clarke’s head is still pounding like a sledgehammer but he sings a song under his breath, and Clarke is too tired to tell him that he’s way off the tune. She lets her head rest against the window, staring at the passing lights and trying hard not to picture Lexa and Costia kissing on Lexa’s bed, hands roaming against each other’s skin, Lexa running a path down Costia’s navel, Costia whispering Lexa’s name.

“We’re here,” Finn says, jolting her out of her thoughts.

Home has never looked so pleasing before. Finn gets out of the car first, before hurrying to her side and then letting her lean her weight against him. God, its way too cold and her dress is too short and her heels are too high. She wonders, for the first time since Finn’s picked her up, if she looks as horrible as she feels. She nearly stumbles at the steps but Finn just chuckles and steadies her.

“You’re my superhero,” Clarke mumbles sleepily and Finn smiles.

The door swings open suddenly and Clarke’s brain short-circuits when she sees Lexa standing on the other side, wearing a black tank top and pajama pants. Her curly hair is tied in a high ponytail behind her head and there are glasses perched on the tip of her nose.

“Lexa?” Finn asks, looking confused.

“What are you doing in my house?” Clarke asks, quickly stepping from Finn’s grasp. It’s what she always does when Finn and Lexa are in the same room together.

Lexa frowns. “You texted me,” she says plainly.

“I did?”

The brunette nods and Clarke pulls out her phone and stares at the screen. Oh. Okay. There’s a message sent twenty minutes ago, around the same time Finn picked her up. _Come inside_? It reads and then there’s Lexa’s usual answer, _I’m already on my way_.

Finn doesn’t look too happy about the turn of events.

“I’ll take it from here, Collins,” Lexa says, regarding Finn with a tilt of her head.

Finn looks over at Clarke, who nods. Then he sighs and presses a kiss on the corner of her mouth before heading back to his car, shoulders hunched forward. Clarke glances at him once and then turns to look at Lexa, who has her arms crossed and a scowl etched on her face.

She looks really, really pretty.

“So, I dragged my ass out of bed for nothing?” Lexa asks, leaning against the doorway and looking as if she owns the place. “Sorry if I ruined you for fun for the night.” 

Clarke rolls her eyes and tries to side-step the other girl but her heels catch on the wooden flooring and she almost falls flat on her face if Lexa hasn’t already caught on and grabbed her by the arms to steady her.

“Thanks for being over dramatic, _Alexandria_ ,” Clarke mutters, stepping out of Lexa’s grip and kicking her heels off. She mostly uses the name for blackmail purposes or when she’s annoyed and not getting her way. Lexa always hates it.

“You reek of alcohol, Griffin,” the brunette snaps at her.

“Yeah, well—what’s new?”

Clarke heads upstairs, noticing that there’s a note taped on her door.

_Picked up the night shift at the hospital. There’s food in the fridge. Don’t stay up late. Love you._

—Mom

“Do you want to eat?” Lexa asks, appearing next to her.

Clarke shrugs. “I’ll pass,” she mutters. She wobbles as she tries to pull her door to open but her mind must be fuzzier than she first thought because she can’t get it to fucking budge. Lexa stares at the scene for a few seconds before reaching over and pushing it open.

Clarke gives her the stink-eye, to wish Lexa just shrugs.

“Aren’t we a bit too old for sleepovers?” Lexa ponders loudly as Clarke collapses on top of her bed, blissfully getting her legs the rest they need. The brunette walks over to the closet and pulls out a few clothes more suitable to sleeping and throws these said clothes at Clarke, who sits up and glares hotly at her.

“Who died and made you my baby sitter?” Clarke asks.

“Just get changed, Clarke.”

Clarke mumbles a few curses under her breath before she stands up once more, knowing all too well what will happen if she won’t change. Lexa has this habit of doing things for her and that includes helping her change. Somehow, she isn’t ready for that thought, especially when she’s still thinking about Lexa and Costia sleeping together. Her chest tightens at the fact and she grabs her clothes before making her way over to the bathroom.

Thankful that her dress doesn’t get stuck, Clarke manages to complete her task with little accident. She does bang her knee on a table, however, which will probably lead into a purple bruise by next morning. Lexa is sitting by the study table when Clarke comes out looking more comfortable.

“Hey,” Clarke says, because some part of her suddenly aches. She misses Lexa—that part is obvious—but she doesn’t realize just how much that emotion goes even deeper than the occasional I-miss-my-best-friend-and-I-want-to-see-them-again feeling. This actually feels a lot like I-miss-my-best-friend-and-I’ve-forgotten-how-act-around-her feeling.

Lexa looks up at her, eyes trailing down appreciatively down Clarke’s figure. If Clarke isn’t so deliriously drunk right now, she might’ve actually noticed.

“These are good,” Lexa says, gesturing to the sketches, “but I’m not surprised. You’ve always been good with a pencil.”

Clarke blinks at her and then shrugs. “Yeah, well— _yeah_.” Some part of her practically glows at the praise Lexa always throws her way, remembering how she eagerly she always loved them as a child and a growing teenager.

Lexa crosses her arms and regards her quietly. “I should go now,” she states, her voice hushed, “since you’re already well dressed. There shouldn’t be a problem. I’ve already prepared some water and aspirin for your hangover tomorrow. It’s on the bedside table.”

Lexa makes to move past her but Clarke grabs her hand. She doesn’t even care that she smells like beer and alcohol and that there’s still a bit of make-up underneath her eyes and that she looks as horrible as she feels. Because Lexa doesn’t care about any of that and she’s probably already seen worse.

“We’re not too old for sleepovers,” the blonde says.

Lexa stares at her quietly before giving a jerky nod. Clarke allows herself to smile. As Lexa lies back down on the right side of the bed, where she’s always stayed during sleepovers, Clarke takes the time to wipe off the excess make-up and brush her teeth. When she steps out of the bathroom, Lexa is still awake and staring at the ceiling, her posture straight.

Clarke crawls in next to her after shutting off the lights. For a long period of time, they say nothing, just listening to each other breathe. Then—

“Are you in love with her?” Clarke asks.

Lexa lets out a shaky breath. She seems to have anticipated the question. Clarke expects her to go on a rant about there not being enough time and that they’ve only just started dating; so it comes as more than a shock when Lexa whispers, “Yes.”

Clarke feels her chest twisting. “I’m glad.”

Silence again. Then Lexa shifts, turning to face her. Clarke looks over, eyes wide and heart rapidly thundering inside her chest. Her head pounds.

“Are you in love with him?” Lexa asks.

There’s a pause and Clarke feels suddenly very sober. She twists her hands and tries to steady her breathing. She must’ve taken too long to answer because Lexa is moving to sit up and Clarke’s not even thinking about Finn, not really—when she answers, “Yeah, I am.”

Lexa eases back down on the bed, quietly staring at her. Clarke returns her heavy gaze.

“That’s good,” Lexa says, smiling softly.

Clarke smiles back.

(Neither will know that the other’s hearts are breaking, ever so quietly.)

//

Lexa’s reading her copy of _The Great Gatsby_ when somebody slams a flyer into the table, jolting her out of her thoughts and making her jump. Clarke is standing over her, smiling sweetly and Lexa’s glaring at her before finally snapping her gaze to the flyer.

Her heart lurches.

It’s the flyer for the Homecoming Dance. A masquerade ball. Lexa hasn’t asked Costia yet, even though it’s plainly obvious that they’re going together. And it’s obvious that Finn’s taking Clarke as well so why—?

“Are you trying to tell me something?” Lexa asks, looking up at her.

Clarke rolls her eyes, takes the vacant seat across her. They haven’t talked about what happened two weeks ago, when Clarke was obviously drunk and sober at the same time, when they asked each other if they were in love with the person they were with. Lexa still shakes her head at herself whenever she thinks about it, which is most of the time; because why would Clarke ask a question they both know the answer to?

She’s in love with Costia, has told herself that plenty of times. She’s pretty sure that she even loves her.

Not the way she loves Clarke though.

“Since the dance is coming up,” Clarke says happily, “it can only mean one thing.”

“Your eighteenth birthday is coming up as well,” Lexa answers for her.

Clarke beams. “You know me so well,” she remarks and they look at each other for a few seconds longer than necessary before Clarke changes the subject, “Anyway, what should we do? I’ve already told Octavia and Raven that it’s just going to be two of us, since you know—we’re best friends.”

“How did they take it?” Lexa asks, trying hard not to smile at the fact that yeah, they still _are_ best friends.

Clarke frowns. “Not so well but I’ll make it up to them later.”

Lexa bites her lower lip as she ponders another question. “What about Finn?”

“What about him?”

“Are you planning something with him? A motel getaway? Fun on the beach? Making love like rabbits?” Lexa frowns at the image in her head, mentally slapping herself for ruining the mood, since Clarke is not so subtly glaring at her, cheeks flushed red. “Okay, maybe not that last part but you get the question.”

“Finn has to visit his parents in Seattle,” Clarke answers, “so he won’t be here while we’re having some fun.”

Lexa has to force some unwanted images in her head and frowns. “And you’re okay with that?”

“He already gave me a gift and a two month supply of flowers in my room,” Clarke says lightly, “My whole house is going to smell like lilacs every time you’ll come and visit.”

“What’s his other gift?”

Clarke smiles before pulling at her collar, where a tattoo now suddenly resides. Lexa jolts. She has nothing against tattoos but she’s never thought of Clarke as the type of person to get one. She leans forward, frowning as she reads the words out loud: “MY PRINCESS”. There’s another one just below it, an image of a two-headed deer with flowers surrounding the said animal.

Lexa suddenly feels very, very sick. “Oh, that’s nice,” she says, keeping her voice light.

“I was actually thinking of holding college off for a while,” Clarke says, looking thoughtful, “Get a summer job at a tattoo shop, learn the art of it, make awesome portraits on people’s skin. Yeah. That sounds like a plan.”

“I don’t think your mother will approve,” Lexa says, closing _The Great Gatsby_ and placing it inside her bag.

Clarke wrinkles her nose. “If she thinks that I’m going to Med school then she can go fuck herself,” she mutters. She and her mother have a strained relationship now, from the moment Jake Griffin died. It only got worse when Abby started dating their English teacher, Mr. Kane.

“What happened to Stanford?” Lexa asks. She’s been eyeing the university for a while now and she knows that Clarke has been doing the same. They both sent out their applications simultaneously and what’s left is just a waiting game. Lexa’s heart drops to her stomach at the thought of not going to college with Clarke. They’ve been so tied up in each other’s lives that it almost doesn’t _feel_ right if they’re not together. She shudders at the thought.

Clarke shrugs. “It’s still on the table,” she says, “Don’t worry about it.”

Lexa frowns but drops the subject immediately. “Anyway, what’s going to happen on your birthday?” she asks.

The blonde grins. “I’m thinking big,” she says.

 _Oh no_ , Lexa thinks. This is going to spell trouble.

//

Spending your eighteenth birthday at a bar isn’t a totally bad idea. Especially since she’s asked Monty to make her two fake ID’s, specifically for her and Lexa. She knows that they’re foolproof, because everything that Monty has done always exceeds expectations. She’s turning eighteen and she expects the whole day to be a complete blast.

Thankfully, her birthday falls on a Saturday, which means that any hangovers will be dealt with accordingly the next day. When she wakes up in the morning with Romeo carefully tucked in under her arm, she immediately grabs her phone to check in with her notifications. Lexa is the first one to greet her. At exactly midnight, she’s sent a Snapchat of her and Mercutio saying happy birthday in her room, grinning so broadly that Clarke’s chest constricts at the sight. The next is Raven and Octavia, who have compiled an embarrassing amount of photos and posted it on Facebook, with the caption: “Party animal Clarke Griffin is 18 folks!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” The rest of her friends have greeted her on her wall, with the usual pictures and Instragram posts, all showing her brightest moments. Her heart swells.

Finn sent her a text message at around 2 AM.

 **Finn <3 (2:03 AM): **Happy birthday, Clarke!! Hope you have a great day. Sorry I can’t be there. Just want you know that I miss you so much right now! Love you :)))

 **Clarke <3 (7:34 AM): **just woke up and read this omg. Thank you babe!! Hope you’re having fun in Seattle. Say hi to your parents for me xoxo

She puts down her phone and heads to the bathroom, showering quickly. She’s so excited to get started that she nearly slips on the way out. Thankfully, she rights herself because there’s no way in hell she’s going to get a concussion on her birthday.

When she heads downstairs, she spots her mom by the counter, reading the paper and drinking coffee. There’s a stack of pancakes on the table and Clarke slides in and grabs a plate.

Her mom looks up, smiling. “Happy birthday,” she greets.

Clarke returns the smile, even though some part of her brain whispers that her father should be there too. She starts attacking her pancakes but pauses when she notices the small box in the middle of the counter. It has her name written on it.

“What’s that?” she asks.

Her mom puts down the paper and retrieves the box, handing it over to her. “That’s your dad’s gift for you,” she explains, her face falling slightly, “He’s—he was saving up for it. He told me that if, under any circumstances; he wasn’t there on your eighteenth birthday that I had to make sure that you got this.”

Clarke feels her heart pounding in her ears as she idly touches the box. When she shakes it, she can hear something small jiggling inside. _Oh Dad_ , she thinks to herself, blinking back tears. He always knew what to do. She looks back at her mom who nods, gesturing for her to open it. She does, ripping the paper and then unlocking the lid. When she looks inside, her breath catches in her throat.

It’s the keys to her new car.

“The rest of your gift is waiting outside,” her mom tells her, smiling softly.

Clarke gives a jerky nod. Then she surprises herself by walking around the counter and giving her mom a fierce hug. They haven’t embraced in a while. Especially since Clarke’s been so angry for the past two years. Her mom presses a kiss to the side of her head before Clarke steps back, blinking back the tears her father’s memory has brought along.

//

Lexa uneasily wavers in front of the door, her foot tapping lightly against the wooden flooring. She’s been standing there for a while now, more than five minutes and to say she’s nervous is an understatement. She has always been carefully cautious about Clarke’s birthday, since she’s always intent on getting her the perfect gift. And Clarke is eighteen years old. She’s nearly an adult now, so this day _has_ to be perfect.

Running her fingers through her hair for the fifth time, she’s about to go and knock when her phone chimes and a message pops out. She pulls the device out and reads:

 **Clarke “badass motherfucker” Griffin (8:02 AM):** Come inside?

 **Commander Lexa Woods (8:03 AM):** I’m already on my way.

Lexa _has_ to wonder why on earth she agreed to let Clarke change their contact names for the whole week. It’s honestly ridiculous but makes her smile at the same time. Well, it _is_ Clarke’s special day. She knocks on the door and a few seconds later, the blonde opens it, already dressed and ready. Lexa is impressed. Usually, on weekends, the girl just stays in bed and watches Netflix.

“There’s my Commander,” Clarke comments offhandedly as Lexa steps inside.

“Please don’t do say that,” Lexa says, groaning.

“Commander, Commander, Commander,” Clarke continues, laughing when Lexa tries to throw her bag at her. The nickname came from Octavia. It had been during Gym class last week and after watching Lexa do perfect curl-ups for the past twenty minutes, Lincoln’s obnoxiously loud girlfriend remarked, “Clarke, I didn’t know your best friend was a Commander.”

The nickname stuck. And now, both Lincoln and Clarke are using it annoy the hell out of her.

“So, what do you have planned?” Lexa asks.

“Ah.” Clarke shakes her head, mouth curling at the side. “My gift first.”

“Well, aren’t you modest,” Lexa mutters sarcastically. She shifts her weight before swinging her bag forward and pulling out two shirts from it. She honestly thinks it’s stupid but knowing Clarke, the other girl will probably appreciate it. Probably. She notices Clarke’s eyes widening when she throws the first shirt at her.

“Lexa…” Clarke is speechless. There are words printed on the back of shirt, bold and eye-catching. _I’m Clarke “Badass Motherfucker” Griffin._ Lexa had thought it’d be funny and hilarious but judging by the way Clarke has paled considerably, she’s suddenly not so sure.

“Hey, it’s okay if you don’t like it,” Lexa is quick to say, frowning when Clarke shakes her head.

“No, no, no,” the golden-haired mumbles, still staring at the shirt like it’s one of the eight wonders of the world, “God, its perfect. How the hell are you so perfect?”

Lexa flushes. Good. Clarke likes her gift. She can breathe a lot easier now.

“It was an idea I got from the internet,” she admits and then Clarke _looks_ at her and suddenly, Lexa is transported to Clarke’s fifth birthday. (She’s always going to think of it as one of the most important turning points of her life.) She remembers Clarke receiving Romeo, Clarke grinning so widely that it must’ve hurt her cheeks, Clarke hugging the life out of her, Clarke staring at her with that strange look in her eyes—one that was partly hopeful and partly sad.

Lexa sees that same look right now and to be perfectly honest, it scares her.

“Do you want to see my shirt?” Lexa asks, holding hers out. Clarke stares at it for a few seconds before she bursts out laughing. Because written on the back of it are the words: _If lost, please return to Clarke “Badass Motherfucker” Griffin_.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Clarke wonders out loud and they both freeze.

Lexa thinks for a few seconds. “I don’t think you have,” she says truthfully. Sure, they’ve expressed how completely and utterly lucky they are to have each other but there has not been one single occasion where they just stopped and said _I love you_. They’ve expressed it better in actions and meaningful looks and light gestures but never in words spoken out loud.

Clarke must realize this too because she shakes her head and says, “Well, we’ve gone through fourteen years without saying it so I might as well start now. I love you, Lexa Woods.”

Lexa’s chest constricts and her hands shake and her breath catches in her throat and Clarke is staring at her, waiting for her to say it back and she doesn’t think she can do it, not without meaning it with every bit of her heart and soul. Because it’s obvious that Clarke only said it out of necessity, that she must mean it in platonic ways and that she will always forever look at Lexa as her best friend and nothing more; but Lexa can’t bear to say it like _that_ , not without thinking about the difference between loving someone and being in love with them. The lines are starting to blur all over again.

She thinks of Costia and briefly closes her eyes.

“Likewise, Clarke Griffin,” she says instead, forcing a smile.

She turns away so fast she doesn’t see the hurt flash across Clarke’s features.

//

Abby takes a photo of Clarke and Lexa standing in front of Clarke’s silver Civic, with their backs turned to the cameras so that the words printed there are visible. Clarke still thinks the shirts are the best things in the universe, well after Lexa Woods, anyways; and she uploads the photo into the Instagram as soon as she gets the right filters. Meanwhile, Lexa is currently admiring the car, walking around it and patting the seats and testing the wheel and generally being a huge nerd.

Clarke’s phone chimes with a few notifications and she laughs when she spots that she already has six likes in a matter of seconds. Her caption reads: “ **three of the best gifts that I have received today, including you @lexawoods.** ” Raven and Octavia have started a conversation on the photo, which will of course be interesting. Clarke skims through the comments, feeling a variety of different emotions once she lets the words sink in.

 **@rayrayreyes:** if i didn’t know you so well, Griffin, i would’ve said that you and lexa look like you’re dating **@partyanimalGriffin @lexawoods**

 **@rayrayreyes:** but you’re obviously not BECAUSE YOU’RE DATING MY BOY FINN

 **@thebetterblake:** sshhhh babe past is past **@rayrayreyes**

 **@thebetterblake:** also where can i buy a shirt like that for me and lincoln??? **@partyanimalGriffin**

 **@rayrayreyes:** ugh dont be gross O **@thebetterblake**

 **@partyanimalGriffin:** **@rayrayreyes** pfft me and lexa are obviously just friends and also **@thebetterblake** you should ask lexa where she got the shirts. i still think they’re the best things in the world.

 **@LincolnGrounderPounder:** ** @partyanimalGriffin @thebetterblake **I want one.

 **@gogglesboy:** same

 **@rayrayreyes:** shut up jasper **@gogglesboy**

“Clarke, your car’s not going to drive itself,” Lexa says, appearing over her shoulder. She smiles when she sees the photo.

Clarke pockets her phone and turns to the vehicle, smiling fondly at it. This is her father’s gift and she’s going to make sure that it’ll stay pristine clean. She tilts her head at her best friend.

“Clarke’s eighteenth birthday extravaganza shall now officially commence,” she declares.

//

Their first stop is at the nearest beach. Thankfully, Lexa has come prepared. Knowing Clarke, this birthday extravaganza of hers is probably going to be completely exhausting so she’s brought along a few bottles of water and extra clothes with a pair of Flip Flops. Clarke laughs when she sees Lexa applying some sun block.

“God, you’re such a control dork,” she says.

“You can never be too prepared,” Lexa states, nearly throwing the bottle at her best friend, who makes a face and then rolls her eyes.

They clamber out of the car and Clarke immediately strips down, throwing off her jeans and then tugging on some shorts while simultaneously pulling off her birthday shirt. Lexa stares at her exposed skin, trying hard not to imagine what she’d do, if she isn’t such a coward. Clarke carefully places her birthday shirt into her bag and then yells at Lexa to hurry up.

Lexa snaps out of her daze and approaches the water. The beach is thankfully empty and Clarke’s already knee deep in. She looks absolutely stunning, the sun glaring down at her from the skies, her golden hair cascading down her back in waves. Lexa allows herself a few selfish moments to soak this picture in and for once, her mind is at peace. She’s not thinking about Costia or Finn; she’s simply letting herself enjoy the pleasure of admiring her best friend and thanking her lucky stars for having the chance of meeting her. She continues to watch, even as she changes out of regular clothes.

Clarke turns towards her then, still smiling. “Come on,” she says, gesturing to the water.

“Are you serious?” Lexa asks.

“I am very serious.”

“There’s sand all over the place.”

“Uhm, that’s kind of obvious.”

Lexa shakes her head and then puts down all of her things. When her toes first touch the water, she sucks in a deep breath, not realizing how perfectly cold it is. Clarke is watching her out of the corner of her eye and that makes her flush, gives her the impression that she’s being carefully scrutinized.

“Okay, I’m here,” she tells Clarke, still watching her toes as they wiggle through the sand. She continues to walk forward until she’s knee deep as well.

“Good.” All of a sudden, Clarke’s rushing forward, golden hair flying behind her and Lexa looks up a moment too late because the blonde tackles her in a fierce hug, making them both tumble backwards towards the sand and water. Lexa gasps when Clarke’s full weight hits her and soon, they’re falling against each other, the water enveloping them both in a cold embrace. Lexa’s teeth chatter as she watches Clarke laughing against her chest.

Lexa sits up in a sitting position, scowling at how utterly wet they are.

(There’s got to be a sexual innuendo somewhere in that sentence.)

“What the hell was that for?” she demands.

Clarke is still hugging her waist, giggling uncontrollably. “It was fun,” she says cheekily, resting her chin against the brunette’s stomach.

Lexa feels herself softening. She’s always soft for Clarke.

Their clothes are drenched and if they stay that for a few minutes longer, then sun burn is definitely not out of the equation but Clarke’s still holding her, staring at her under her long eyelashes and Lexa is staring back to her heart’s content because they’re not talking and they’re not moving and there’s nobody around to ruin this perfectly good moment. She watches as Clarke’s eyes flutter close and something in her chest twists when the blonde leans forward slightly, unconsciously licking her lips and they’re breathing in each other’s scent and Lexa’s mind is clear—her purpose is even clearer—when she also leans forward.

A huge wave suddenly crashes into them, knocking Clarke’s forehead against Lexa’s chin. Both girls groan in pain and Lexa scrambles up to her feet, her cheeks flaring as she pulls Clarke along as well. They’re both dripping wet and Lexa makes a sound of disapproval when she feels sand in some nether regions.

“Sorry,” Clarke says and Lexa has no idea which part she is saying sorry for.

She nods anyway.

(She tries—God, she _tries_ —she tries not to think about how awfully close they were to making a big mistake.)

(Later, she finds herself wishing she had done it sooner.)

//

Clarke kind of wants to change her name and move to Canada.

The almost-kiss was definitely not part of her agenda but Lexa looked so beautiful, her face radiant, green eyes bright and even though she was wearing a scowl, Clarke couldn’t blame herself for wanting to kiss her. Her best friend is probably one of the most beautiful she has ever met; body, mind and soul and Clarke wouldn’t have minded kissing her for the rest of her life.

Okay. Something’s definitely up. She should _not_ be thinking such thoughts. She has a boyfriend, for God’s sake and Lexa has a girlfriend too. They _can’t_ fool around—it’ll ruin relationships and destroy the connection that they have. Clarke cannot bear to lose the fourteen-year-old friendship that they have. She cherishes it more than anything.

So they stay in the beach for any or more, soaking up the sun and building sandcastles and updating their Instagram and Twitter posts. Raven and Octavia have dutifully kept up with them, commenting sarcastically and generally being pain the asses but it’s clear that they hate not being part of Clarke’s special day. It especially shows on Octavia’s Twitter account:

 **@thebetterblake:** do you ever just want to buy a fuckload of ice cream and watch sappy RomComs because your gal pal doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday with you?? **@partyanimalGriffin @rayrayreyes**

Raven has posted a picture of herself sitting in the living room with a tub of Rocky Road, pouting. The caption reads: “ **because @partyanimalGriffin doesn’t want to celebrate her 18th with me, I’m just going to cry into the ice cream which I have conveniently bought for myself #bitter**”

 **@thebetterblake:** don’t move i’m coming over **@rayrayreyes**

 **@rayrayreyes:** please bring more ice cream I might’ve ate them all **@thebetterblake**

“Have I ever told you how dramatic Raven and Octavia are?” Clarke asks. Lexa is the one driving this time, which should be unsettling since the car is just newly bought but Lexa drives safely and carefully, keeping her eyes on the road and following the rules.

Lexa barely glances at her. “Yes, plenty of times.”

“Well, now they’re buying ice cream and moping over the fact that I didn’t invite them,” Clarke says, grinning broadly when Lexa snorts.

“Now that you mention it, I’m kind of craving some ice cream,” Lexa remarks offhandedly.

Clarke’s grin widens. “Thought you’d never ask.”

After some helpful directions from Siri, they find an ice cream shop in the north side of town. It’s close to a forest so when they scramble out of the car and take a deep breath, they can smell the pine trees from a considerable amount of distance away. Lexa shakes her still dripping hair dry while Clarke takes a picture of the scenery.

“I don’t think you should update your location every time we move, Clarke,” Lexa says, tying her long curly hair into a ponytail.

“Elaborate,” Clarke says, watching a particular water drop running on the side of Lexa’s jaw. She shakes her head and then turns to the ice cream shop, where a large sign says: _Miller’s Cream_.

“Because Raven and Octavia can track you down and crash the party,” Lexa answers, snorting when she reads the sign. “You know, there’s got to be a gay joke in there.”

Clarke laughs and then tugs Lexa inside, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the front door. When they enter, it’s thankfully air-conditioned and the place is empty except for a few girls in the corner, giggling as they finish off their individual cups of ice cream. The booths are painted blue and the menus show assorted plates of foods, chips and obviously, ice cream. Clarke’s mouth drops open slightly. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen something so beautiful.

Lexa closes her mouth for her, smirking slightly. “Order away, birthday girl,” she says before choosing a booth close to an open window.

Clarke follows, sitting across her best friend and picking up the menu. She skims through the orders for a while, ignoring the fact that Lexa is currently texting Costia. Her gut twists painfully and she ignores that too.

“You know what,” she says, dropping the menu and gesturing at the waiter, who looks to be about their age with dark skin and a small scuffle of a beard, “I’m just going to order the biggest thing they have here, with fries of course.”

Lexa nearly drops her phone. “And who’s going to finish all of that?” she asks, when she realizes that the biggest thing the shop has is five liters of ice cream, littered with every kind of sprinkles, banana and other kinds of stuff slammed together in a large bowl.

Clarke smirks. “You and I, of course,” she says and she tells this to the waiter, whose name is _Nathan_ , as stated in the name tag.

As they wait for their order, Clarke checks her phone. She lights up when she realizes that Finn has texted her:

 **Finn <3 (11:09 AM): **how’s your day going so far?

 **Clarke <3 (11:19 AM): **awesome. We’re having ice cream already.

 **Finn <3 (11:21 AM): **glad to hear it! I hope you’re still having fun :))

 **Clarke <3 (11:21 AM): **I always have fun whenever Lexa is around.

She winces when she presses send. She probably shouldn’t have said that, knowing all too well about how jealous Finn can get whenever the two girls hang out. Finn doesn’t respond so she glances over at Lexa, who is still on her phone, a small crinkle appearing between her eyebrows. She looks, as she always does, adorable.

“Trouble in paradise?” she finds herself asking, hating the way how bitter she sounds.

Lexa looks up, eyebrows raised. When Clarke gestures to the phone, the brunette exhales a laugh and shakes her head. “It’s nothing,” she says, “Costia’s just checking up on me.”

“Oh.” Clarke bites down the urge to say something she knows she’ll regret later on. She’s always held some sort of animosity towards Costia, not because she’s a bitch or anything (which she isn’t—quite the opposite, actually) but because she always makes Lexa smile. She has tried everything to make sure that these said feelings go away but then Lexa was suddenly spending less time with her and more time with Costia and it kind of makes her realize that she’s not on the top of Lexa’s list anymore.

Even though she has Finn, Clarke will _always_ put Lexa first.

Her thoughts move to the upcoming dance. Finn has already asked her to go with him and of course she said yes because they are, after all, dating. Lexa is taking Costia as well and their dresses are ready and the dance is next week and the more Clarke thinks about it, the more she realizes how much she _doesn’t_ want to go.

Yeah, something’s definitely wrong. It’s like somebody’s reached inside her and wrung all of her insides out, making her think that right is wrong while wrong is definitely right and that she doesn’t love Finn because she definitely loves _Lexa_.

 _Fuck_ , she thinks, shaking her head. This is not the first time such thoughts have passed through her head but this is the first where she doesn’t immediately force it out of her system. Instead, she toys with it, turning it over and over again until she’s practically memorized it to the bones. _She loves Lexa Woods the way she should love Finn Collins_.

Clarke looks up at her best friend, who is now studying the menu. She stares at her unruly brown hair, always frizzy and messy and generally in the way of everything. She stares at the forest green eyes, sometimes dark and passionate with anger, sometimes soft and loving with emotion. She stares at the soft plump lips, noticing the small mole on the left side and then— _bam_ —Clarke is suddenly hit with the desperate, hungry urge to reach forward and kiss her best friend right there and then.

Clarke closes her eyes. No, she _loves_ Lexa. As a friend. As a best friend. As the bests of friends. She doesn’t love her the way she wants to love Finn. She doesn’t love her the way Lexa loves Costia. She doesn’t—

Their orders arrive and both of their eyes widen once faced with the monstrosity Clarke has ordered on a whim. Nathan hands them both spoons and passes the plate of chips around before walking away with a large smirk on his face. Clarke notices that her spoon is slightly shaking.

“I hate you,” Lexa says, staring at the dripping ice cream.

“No, you don’t,” Clarke is quick to respond.

“No.” Lexa sighs, already digging in, “I don’t.”

Clarke takes a picture first before she takes her first bite. Her eyes flutter close in pleasure when the cold hits her tongue. She chews on the banana clippings and the sprinkles and the chocolate chips while simultaneously tasting the whipped cream on top. The ice cream is soft and gooey, just the way she likes it and Lexa is sort of half-laughing, half-giggling when Clarke complains of brain freeze.

“You have something on your face,” Lexa says, pointing at her cheeks. “Actually, you have a lot of it.”

“Please tell me it’s not paint,” Clarke mumbles, referring to their first meeting.

Lexa seems to understand because she pulls a hanky from her pocket and leans across the table to wipe off the offending cream from Clarke’s face. The blonde tenses but Lexa continues to laughs as she carefully minds Clarke’s make-up and then leans back, smiling proudly.

Clarke is suddenly hit with the image of four-year-old Lexa Woods, unruly brown hair tied in a ponytail; forest green eyes alight with mischief as her mouth curls at the sight of Clarke Griffin’s four-year-old idiocy, washing the paint off the blonde’s cheeks with her hanky. Clarke remembers the sunlight streaming through the window, the TV playing in the background, her father’s voice talking to Gustus. Clarke remembers _that_ feeling once more—the feeling of completely being in awe and wonder of Lexa—washing over her entire body and the tips of her fingers tingle and her chest tightens and _oh_ —she’s always been in love with her best friend. Since the moment they met—she’s always been completely and madly in love with her.

(This time, she understands the difference, even though it’s fourteen years too late.)

//

Lexa’s stomach is so close to bursting that when she stands, she nearly pukes on the floor. Thankfully, Clarke is there to grab onto her hand, steadying her carefully. They’ve barely finished the ice cream and the rest of it is currently dripping on the table but Clarke just waves her hand and shakes her head when Lexa complains of how much that thing cost.  

“It’s my birthday,” Clarke says cheekily, “I can do whatever I want and buy whatever I want without any repercussions from my mother. Because it’s my birthday. Because I’m eighteen and almost a legal adult. Also, it’s my birthday. Have I said that already?”

Lexa laughs, shaking her head as they both head out of the shop. Clarke gets into the driver seat and Lexa follows afterwards. She pulls out her phone when it buzzes, smiling when she sees that it’s Costia.

 **Costia <3 (12:14 PM): **I’m watching _The Notebook_ right now and I need someone to cuddle with :(((

 **Lexa The Bae (12:15 PM):** you’re just going to have to wait :P

 **Costia <3 (12:15 PM): **I miss you

 **Lexa The Bae (12:16 PM):** I miss you too :)

Lexa looks over at Clarke, who is staring at the phone with a mixture of apprehension and doubt.

“You okay there, birthday girl?” Lexa asks, her smile fading.

Clarke jolts suddenly and the grin that blossoms her face doesn’t exactly reach her eyes. Lexa is about to ask her what’s wrong when Clarke shakes her head and mutters something about catching a movie.

“I hear that _Age of Ultron_ is already showing,” Clarke comments offhandedly, “Natasha and Bruce are a thing.”

Lexa shakes her head. “Please tell me you’re joking,” she says, her initial worries getting thrown out the window. She pockets her phone and reaches forward to turn the radio on. Clarke smiles cheekily at her as she starts the Civic, flipping on some sunglasses.

“I asked Raven about it and she proceeded to tell me the whole thing,” the blonde continues to talk as she drives the car out of the parking lot, glancing at Lexa once before moving back into the road, “Like the entire fucking thing. With a lot of spoilers. You know who’s going to die? That guy with—”

“No.” Lexa slaps a hand across Clarke’s mouth, promptly shutting the other girl up. Clarke’s eyes widen as she stares at her, which is probably a bad thing because Clarke’s the designated driver and all but Lexa is silently fuming. She _hates_ spoilers. “Raven loves you so much that she spoils movies for you. How convenient. At least _I_ don’t do that. I’m not that cruel.”

She peels her hand away and Clarke stares at her for a few more seconds before whipping her attention back to the road. Lexa notices that her knuckles have gone white on the wheel.

“Yeah,” Clarke mumbles, sounding dazed, “You’re not cruel.”

“Thank you.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything else after that.

They end up watching the movie after all and Lexa’s kind of glaring at the screen the whole time, because Natasha Romanoff and Bruce Banner don’t have any levels of chemistry at all. Clarke has her legs across Lexa’s lap since the theatre is half empty and there are plenty of available chairs around. The bag of popcorn is lying haphazardly against Lexa’s arm and Clarke spends half of the time alternating between her phone and the movie up ahead.

“He’s not dead,” Lexa says out loud.

“Who knows?” Clarke asks, staring at her.

Lexa scowls, choosing to remain quiet until the movie ends. Clarke doesn’t move her feet from Lexa’s lap and they wait until the end of the credits, but nothing comes out. Rolling her eyes, Lexa mutters something about Joss Whedon ruining the beauty of Marvel movies before trying to move Clarke’s ankles. The blonde just sighs dramatically and lets her head drop against the cushion of her seat, smirking broadly at her best friend.

“Are we just going to stay here until the movie starts all over again?” Lexa questions, with a hint of exasperation.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” Clarke asks, still not budging from her place.

Lexa stops struggling and rest her hands against Clarke’s knees, wearing a scowl on her face. They remain there, soaking in the quiet silence until Lexa says, with a clipped tone, “Are we seriously doing this?”

“Is it so wrong to want to just stay here and relax for a few minutes?”

“Well, it is your birthday…”

“Give me your hand.”

Blinking in surprise, Lexa extends her right hand. Clarke grabs it immediately, not quite meeting Lexa’s gaze as she idly plays with the brunette’s fingers. It takes several seconds but eventually, Lexa relaxes. She leans back against her seat and watches as Clarke draws patterns against her skin. It’s dark in the theatre and incredibly cold and there are still people moving around and taking seats and talking loudly with their friends but somehow, that all fades away until it’s only just the two of them left. Lexa stares in wonder as Clarke continues to play with her hand, skin running against skin, their palms softly grazing against each other and Lexa is a ninety-nine percent sure that Clarke is going to say something important because she has this _look_ in her face that just speaks thousands. If only Lexa understood.

“Lexa,” Clarke says slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes are so blue and it never fails to take Lexa’s breath away.

“Clarke,” Lexa says in return, her voice hushed as well.

“I—” Clarke closes her mouth, looks absolutely _furious_ at herself for a several long seconds before she lets out another dragging sigh and shakes her head. “Thank you,” is what comes out instead. 

Lexa is ninety-nine percent sure that that is not what Clarke meant to say but she’s never been the type of person to push people into corners and demand an explanation. She is patient, she lets others decide for themselves and soon, she’ll come to realize that this will become a mistake instead of an asset.

“You’re welcome,” Lexa says, smiling softly, “I’m glad you’re still enjoying your birthday.”

The smile that Lexa receives is tight and full of many unsaid things but Lexa turns her head away, because she knows that Clarke will say those things soon. They have the promise of forever, after all.

//

Clarke wishes that she can reverse time; make use of the years that have passed by, grab at the first opportunity presented to her, tell Lexa that oh dear God—she _loves_ her, she’s _in love_ with her but she wonders what would’ve happened instead, if they _did_ get together. Clarke pushes and Lexa pulls. They know how to tear each other down just as quickly as they know how to bring each other back up again. They know each other’s _everything_ —Clarke knows of Lexa’s fear of failure, Lexa knows of the things that keep Clarke up at night, Clarke knows of the worry lines that Lexa gets whenever she thinks of the future, Lexa knows of the freckles that dot the back of Clarke’s back, almost akin to the stars in the night sky. They’re so stupidly _perfect_ for each other and Clarke doesn’t know why it has taken years for her to realize this.

Nothing has changed. Clarke doesn’t grow shy or self-conscious. She doesn’t stumble over words and stare too long. Instead, everything seems like before—except for the fact that Clarke knows that she has every chance to either ruin this or make it the best thing to have ever happened between them. But Clarke has Finn and Lexa has Costia and it’s a story full of missed chances and inappropriately timed realizations and Clarke wants to reverse time so badly.

They walk out of the theatre with their hands linked in between them. She loves the fact that everybody gawks at their shirt and she has to remind herself over and over again just how lucky she is to have Lexa.

“Wait,” Clarke calls out, stopping by a small thrift store. It’s three in the afternoon and the day is still so righteously young.

Lexa stops immediately and moves to Clarke’s side, still not letting go of their hands.

“Raven and Octavia are going to be _so_ jealous,” Clarke remarks.

“Why so?” Lexa tilts her head to the side, her hair falling over her shoulder and Clarke has this insane desire to kiss her and it’d be romantic, since it’s on her birthday and they’ve just finished watching a movie and the sun is in Clarke’s eyes but Lexa just looks so _beautiful_.

Clarke shakes her head. “Because we’re going to buy something to make this day a hundred times more awesome.”

“Isn’t it awesome enough already?” Lexa drawls with a teasing smirk and Clarke’s urge to kiss her just intensifies.

She saves herself by walking inside the store first and Lexa soon follows afterwards. Everything is slightly cramped, with shelves leaning haphazardly to the side and towering high above the ceiling. Racks of clothes surround the area and then there are tables full of accessories and used belongings and other stuff that Clarke can’t find the name to. She easily moves along the rows of clothing and heads over to the tables. Lexa follows. She always does.

“What do you have in mind?” Lexa eyes the accessories lying in front of her and reaches out to touch a necklace with a tree stamped on it.

“Something to remember me by,” Clarke answers with a serious face, looking back at Lexa, who raises her eyebrow in question. “You know, just in case you miss me or something or if I don’t get accepted into Stanford. Which is a high possibility, considering that I want to own a tattoo shop.”

“ _Clarke_ ,” Lexa practically growls and Clarke smirks.

“Kidding,” she says, rolling her eyes when Lexa mimes hitting her with a hardbound book.

They look around for a few more minutes and the guy at the counter glances up and then lazily before returning back to his phone. Clarke doesn’t exactly know what she’s searching for but it _has_ to call out to her, especially since she wants to give Lexa something that will make this day last.

Her eyes fall on two small plush teddy bears lying side by side. They look dirty, with dust and smudge marks peppered all over the brown fur and white shirts. Black buttons and very shaky smiles have been sewed onto the face and Clarke instantly _clicks_ with it. She’s always thanked Lexa for giving her Romeo and now she wants to give her something else too. A teddy bear. A remembrance. Just _something_.

“Lexa,” Clarke calls out, grabbing the teddy bears. Perfect.

Lexa wanders next to her and she smiles as she takes the second stuffed toy.

“Good?” Clarke asks, staring straight into Lexa’s forest green eyes.

The brunette’s smile widens. “It’s missing something,” she says and then reaches into her back pocket ( _always prepared_ , Clarke thinks to herself) to pull out a black marker. She scribbles some words into the white shirt of her teddy bear and then steps back, looking proud of herself.

“Okay, now we’re definitely buying them,” Clarke mutters as she takes a look. Her breath catches and tears spring into her eyes without permission. Because Lexa has written the words: _I love you Clarke Griffin_ in her simple, always neat handwriting and the brunette is giving her this partly hopeful and partly anxious look in her eyes, her smile shaky against her lips.

Clarke shakes her head, grabs the marker and then writes on her own teddy bear: _I love you Lexa Woods_.

“ _Now_ it’s perfect,” Lexa declares.

The guy at the counter doesn’t even blink when he accepts their payment and places the bears into a plastic bag, waving them off as he returns to his phone. Clarke shares a look with Lexa, who grins at her.

(Clarke’s thinking of selling her own kidneys online, just to buy a time machine in order to fix the mess she’s in.)

//

Lexa isn’t entirely surprised when Clarke drags her into a bar when the clock hits 7 PM. They spent the prior hours in a nearby park, Clarke drawing in her sketchpad with Lexa finishing a book that she’s been reading for the past few days or so. Leaning against each other and enjoying the last remaining rays of the sun is probably one of the many memories that Lexa will always cherish when it comes to her best friend. 

Clarke produces two fake ID’s from her bag when they stop in front of a bar called _The Ark_. It’s pulsing with energy, lights blaring from all corners and music shaking the very pavement. A long line is standing in front of the double doors and Lexa can see all types of people waiting to get in. It seems like _The Ark_ is a very famous bar to party in, which shouldn’t be surprising, because Clarke never settles for less.

“So, are we going to be black out drunk before the night ends?” Lexa asks, taking her fake ID and admiring Monty Green’s handiwork.

“That’s the plan,” Clarke says, grinning. “But don’t worry, I told Raven to come as soon as possible if I don’t text her at around midnight. Who knows? I might be dead in some dark, dingy alley by then.” 

A wave of fierce protectiveness washes over Lexa at the image in her head and she says, without thinking too much about it, “I’m not going to let that happen.”

Clarke’s movement slow down drastically as she looks up at Lexa, blue eyes shining under the orange streetlights above them. There seems to be a raw, genuine emotion written across the expanse of her features; full of unabashed relief, joy, hope and something else—something Lexa always sees but can never put her finger into. Clarke stares at her for a few more seconds, never blinking, never looking away before the blonde manages to snap out of her daze. She clears her throat, shakes her head slightly and then says, with a tight smile, “Knew I could always count on you.”

Lexa’s breath stutters as she nods. “Yeah, anytime.”

They head out of the car and into the bar, not bothering to change out of their jeans and matching shirts. Lexa doesn’t mind since she knows that Clarke has already attached herself to the piece of clothing. Also, it’ll be nice—to celebrate her birthday together with a _bang_. It takes quite a while, since the line is pretty long but once the clock strikes eight, they finally get in without much trouble with their ID’s.

Inside, the dance floor dominates the ground floor and even though it’s still pretty early, the place is already packed with people dancing around, grinding against each other, laughing and drinking and having a good time. The counter is filled with more guests as well, talking to strangers and exchanging numbers and leaning in for make-out sessions. The music is loud—too loud for Lexa’s opinion—and she’s pretty sure that the ground underneath her feet is shaking. The lights are dazzling as well, blinding her several times. She bumps into a lot of waitresses carrying trays of drinks, blushing madly at how little clothing they have on.

Clarke laughs next to her, shaking her head in endearment as she intertwines their fingers together.

“Come on.” She has to yell to be overhead. “Let’s get black out drunk.”

//

They spend four hours screaming their throats sore and dancing to the beat of the music, bumping elbows and colliding knees with random strangers. They keep close to each other, however and whenever Clarke’s eyes fall on Lexa’s unruly curls and incredibly awkward dance moves, her heart just soars. The booze and alcohol is getting in her system and every guy that she’s danced with has always tried to get into her personal space, mouth hungry and desperate. She always pushes them off.

 _I have a boyfriend_ , she tries to tell herself but then her eyes always move to Lexa, who’s laughing in some corner and she’s suddenly sure that Finn isn’t the only reason.

She moves to the counter and orders five more shots. Lexa appears next to her, still a giggling mess.

“We should get drunk more often,” the brunette says, running her fingers through her hair.

“I already get drunk often, _Alexandria_ ,” Clarke tells her as she winks exaggeratedly. She downs the first shot and lets the taste burn her tongue.

Lexa takes the second shot, sipping it and wincing when the taste hits her. Clarke feels deliriously close to doing something stupid because her brain is fuzzy and some part of her stomach wants to throw up and she’s looking at Lexa like she’s the most beautiful person in the planet. Which she is. Lexa is so insanely beautiful and Clarke is so insanely in love with her and God, _why did it take so long for her to figure it out_?

“Do I have something on my face?” Lexa asks, smiling a dazzling smile at her.

“Your eyes are really green, did you know that?” Clarke says, peering close. Since Lexa is a few inches taller than she is, she has to perch herself on the stool she’s sitting on, her feet wobbling unsteadily upon it. She doesn’t notice the way Lexa’s breath stutters or the way Lexa slightly leans back.

“Clarke—” Lexa says, mouth dropping subtly.

“ _Really_ green,” Clarke murmurs, the music pounding heavily in her ears as she leans in.

//

Lexa has stopped breathing. She’s watching Clarke’s face for any sign of discomfort, or regret or plain drunken stupidity but she finds nothing. All she finds is a definite kind of wonder and hope she knows is mirrored on her own and she swallows painfully when Clarke doesn’t stop leaning forward.

They shouldn’t be doing this. She _should_ stop her. But she doesn’t. Instead, she lets Clarke wrap her arms around her neck, lets Clarke lean against her, lets Clarke’s breath brush against her lips. She lets this warm, floaty feeling settle in her chest and for several long seconds, she lets them stay intertwined. Clarke is still staring at her, blue eyes earnest and Lexa’s hands move easily on the blonde’s waist, steadying her.

“Clarke,” she says and she hears the _plea_ in her voice.

“Lexa,” Clarke murmurs in return, sounding breathless.

The alcohol is thrumming in her veins, making her feel bolder. She sheds all the weight on her shoulders, pushes back the things holding her back and allows herself to enjoy this moment. Clarke inhales sharply and she smells of cheap booze and sweat but Lexa doesn’t care. She doesn’t—because she feels as if she’s been _waiting_ for this moment, this agonizing moment where all the pieces finally fall into place and _oh_ —she’s always loved Clarke. She’s always been _in love_ with her. Ever since they were five years old. It’s fourteen years too late and she realizes this in the most inappropriate of places but yes—Lexa is truly in love with her best friend.

She doesn’t think of Costia or of Finn. She’s too drunk to care about the repercussions of what will happen if they _do_ this. Instead, she bumps her nose lightly with Clarke’s, who gasps.

After what feels like several years of tiptoeing around each other, Clarke finally meets her in the middle.

//

Lexa tastes of alcohol and peppermint.

//

Clarke is soft and yielding above her.

//

 _This is what I’ve been missing_ , Clarke thinks.

//

 _This is what I’ve been waiting for_ , Lexa realizes.

//

Clarke takes a shuddering breath when Lexa deepens the soft, chaste kiss, dragging her fingers across the back of Lexa’s neck, pulling her close, inhaling her scent.

//

Lexa runs her palms against the smooth expanse of Clarke’s back; where her shirt has ridden up as she feels Clarke pushing into her, opening her mouth, breathing her in.

//

Clarke doesn’t think of Finn.

//

Lexa barely remembers who Costia is.

//

Clarke is the first to pull away and the beginnings of a huge, dopey smile start to appear on her lips, when she feels the stool shaking violently beneath her.

//

Lexa catches sight of the smile and is about to lean forward again but then Clarke promptly falls off the stool, crashing into the ground and leaving Lexa open-mouthed and dazed for several long seconds.

//

Clarke forgets most of the night at the bar the next day.

//

Lexa never forgets the night for the entirety of her life.


	2. eight years later (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It took fourteen years and a drunken kiss for Clarke and Lexa to realize they're in love with each other.
> 
> It'll take them eight years to finally do something about it.
> 
> These are those years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be aware that I have no idea how the American Education System works.
> 
> Also there's going to be a third part because this story is massively long and I don't think any of you would like to read 100k words over one night.
> 
> There are probably too many mistakes grammatically so if you can please ignore those, it will be appreciated.
> 
> Enjoy.

_Come back, come back, come back to me like_  
_You could, you could if you just said you're sorry_  
_I know that we could work it out somehow_  
_But if this was a movie you'd be here by now_

-Taylor Swift

//

Lexa Woods is standing in her own wedding with her hands around her wife, grinning so broadly that she can feel happy tears prickling behind her eyes. Some part of her, however, has to wonder if it’s the complete opposite, if she’s crying because there is no chance for her to be with her best friend anymore. Everything  _should_  be perfect, except for this gnawing feeling in her chest.

Everything should be perfect.

Only it isn’t. Because Lexa is married to someone whom she knows she loves, but she knows that her wife is not the only person residing in her heart. Lexa belongs to someone else and that someone is just sitting a few tables away from her.

Nothing is perfect.

She thinks back to the point when everything started falling apart.

//

8 YEARS PREVIOUSLY

Everything starts falling apart the day after Clarke’s eighteenth party. Last night’s party is a blur, mostly because Lexa spent the majority of it trying to make sure that Clarke was still alive and breathing and not drunk enough for Abby to kill the two of them. Raven and Octavia appeared too and laughed at the duo’s misfortune when they came to pick them up from the bar. Lexa remembers everything but not every detail. She remembers Clarke’s head falling against her shoulder, Clarke’s body heat mingling with her own, Clarke’s golden hair in her mouth, Clarke’s lips pressed against her own and Lexa’s mind is just full of  _Clarke, Clarke, Clarke_  that she’s pretty sure the entire universe can hear the repetition in her head.

They dropped Clarke off at the hospital around 1 AM. Lexa didn’t want to take any chances and Abby was on the night shift so when they saw each other in the emergency room, Raven and Octavia the only sober ( _ironic_ , Lexa thought) people there, Abby nearly popped a vein.

Lexa doesn’t want to think about the remainder of last night. After dropping Clarke off to be supervised by her mother, Lexa went home, got changed, crawled into bed and stared at the ceiling long enough she can still see the cracks of the tiles the morning after. She thought of Clarke’s blue eyes, of Clarke’s mouth pressed against her own, of Clarke’s hands running all over her neck, fingers memorizing her skin and  _fuck_ —Lexa covered her face with her hands, breathing hard as something closely akin to butterflies erupted in her stomach. She barely got enough sleep after those thoughts.

It’s the morning after and she still can’t believe she kissed her best friend. After having a quick breakfast and staring at her reflection for longer than necessary, she pulls on her favorite sweater and combat boots, tugs the tangles and messy knots from her hair and then finally says goodbye to her father, who is sitting by the dinner table, reading the paper. Her stomach is full of nerves and she can understand why. Last night was—she still doesn’t know what to think of it but every fiber of her being  _knows_  that it wasn’t a mistake.

She’s still suffering from a slight hangover but she only drank about two tequila shots. She’s okay but she knows that Clarke is feeling far worse. Lexa hopes that she’s not suffering too badly.

The Griffin house looks the same but the dread in Lexa’s stomach only intensifies when she steps through the front porch. Abby gave her a spare key a long time ago, since the place is empty most of the time. Especially after Jake died but Lexa doesn’t want to think about that. She wants to think of last night, of Clarke hovering above her, blue eyes bright and needy and restrained. She wants to think of Clarke’s mouth against hers, tasting of alcohol and first loves and second chances. She wants to think of Clarke’s smile after the kiss, stretching so far apart that it could reach her ears. But she can’t. She can’t—not without thinking that it might’ve been a drunken mistake on the blonde’s part.

Lexa presses her palms against her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath. She realized, last night, that she’s been in love with Clarke for thirteen years now and she cradles the fact deep in her chest, not forsaking it but making sure that it stays there for as long as necessary. The signs have been there and she’s never taken the time to think it through. And she has now. She just hopes that she’s not thirteen years too late.

She steps inside the house, watching for any signs of life. There is none. Abby is probably still asleep. Clarke must be upstairs, sporting her hangover. Jake is still gone. Lexa’s heart lurches at the unfortunate fact. She kicks off her shoes, places them neatly in the side and climbs the stairs, careful not to make any sudden noises. Her heart is beating loudly inside her chest and her palms are sweaty and her face feels awfully cold.

Clarke’s door is halfway open and she pushes it open, hesitating slightly.

“Clarke?” she calls out.

“Oh, thank God,” the blonde in question says, throwing the blankets off. She’s still wearing her birthday shirt but she’s changed out of her jeans and into comfortable sweatpants. Her hair is tied in a messy bun and she looks like crap, to say the least. Lexa’s breath still catches at the sight of her.

“You look horrible,” Lexa states, smiling when Clarke throws a pillow at her.

Clarke runs a hand across her face, groaning loudly. “I  _feel_  horrible,” she mumbles.

“Well, you  _did_  party hard last night,” Lexa points out, walking over and taking a seat on the bed. Clarke wraps the blankets around her shoulders, glaring mournfully at the brunette. Lexa is pleased to see that Romeo is peeking out from underneath the blonde’s arm.

“I don’t even want to know,” Clarke mutters.

“You did like, five body shots out of random people,” Lexa says, her grin widening.

“Lexa—”

“And you danced like nobody was watching—”

“ _Fucking hell, shut up—_ ”

“I think you might’ve grinded on some poor guy’s ass—”

“ _Please_  tell me I didn’t make out with anybody,” Clarke exclaims, shaking her head as if the thought disgusts her.

Lexa falters. Takes a deep breath. Tries to ignore her heart shattering. She looks down at the ground before meeting Clarke’s expectant gaze once more.

“I don’t know,” she says, her tone neutral, “Did  _you_?”

“Oh God.” Clarke throws her hands up in the air, sighing so loudly that her chest compresses. “Let’s pretend last night never happened. I’m sorry. God, I’ve never been so embarrassed of myself. I’m  _so_  glad Raven and Octavia weren’t there to take pictures of blackmail.”

Lexa feels suddenly very, very cold. She inhales sharply through her nose and tries to blink the impending tears in her eyes. Clarke has rejected her. She’s practically  _begging_  for her to forget that they kissed; implying that last night was nothing more than just a drunken mistake made on her eighteenth birthday. Lexa can  _hear_  her heart breaking inside her chest and it’s so loud that she’s pretty sure even Clarke can hear it.

(Clarke doesn’t.)

“So, did Finn text you or something?” Lexa asks, turning back to the blonde.

Clarke shrugs. Something flashes across her face and she grabs her phone from the bedside table, squinting at the brightness.

“Uh, yeah. He’s hoping that I feel better.”

“That’s good.”

“Did Costia say anything?” Clarke’s face is carefully blank but Lexa doesn’t notice because she’s too busy pulling her phone from her back pocket. There’s a message from her girlfriend (Lexa’s stomach churns with guilt) and it says:  **Hope you’re feeling awesome, babe! <3**

Clarke smiles when she reads the message and Lexa pockets her phone before gesturing back at Clarke’s shirt, saying, “Are you not going to change?”

“But I like it.”

“It reeks of alcohol,” Lexa points out.

“What’s new?”

Lexa shakes her head, falling flat against the bed. Clarke follows afterwards and together, they stare at the ceiling, no words being exchanged between them and Lexa’s heart is still breaking because nothing has changed, even though everything already has. She searches the covers for Clarke’s hand and when she finds it, she intertwines their fingers together.

“Happy Birthday, Clarke Griffin,” she whispers, trying hard not to choke.

She senses Clarke’s smile rather than sees it and the blonde squeezes her hand before saying, “Thank you, Lexa Woods.” She laughs suddenly and Lexa gives her a puzzled smile. “Even though you are a shit chaperone.”

Lexa laughs too and her heart swells because if this is what it means to be in love Clarke Griffin, then she wouldn’t want it any other way.

//

A day before the Homecoming Dance, Octavia throws a beach party. She invites everybody in the grade and Clarke drags a reluctant Lexa to the same beach they visited on the blonde’s birthday, laughing when Lexa pulled a face and muttered something about the party interrupting her college applications. Finn and Costia will be coming too, but Clarke’s the one driving Lexa there and that should probably mean something but she decides not to think about it.

The one thing Clarke  _cannot_  absolutely stop thinking about is the scene in the ice cream shop, when she realized, after fourteen years of impeccable friendship, that she’s head over heels in love with her best friend. She can’t stop thinking about the green in Lexa’s eyes that always remind of her the forest, about the gleam in Lexa’s teeth whenever she smiles or grins, about the look Lexa always gets whenever she talks about Costia or whenever she finds Clarke slightly amusing and exasperating. She can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is, inside and out, and it’s saddening when the fact that  _she’s too late_  hits her straight in the chest.

She  _is_  too late. Lexa is in love with Costia, has voiced it out loud and clear once. Clarke can see it too, in the way Lexa always smiles when she gets a text from her girlfriend and in the way she always seems to light up when Costia walks into the room. She sees it and it breaks her heart.

They arrive at the beach ten minutes after the designated meeting time. The sun is already fading and she can spot a fire in the distance. Lexa groans out loud when the Civic stops and Clarke laughs, reaching out to unclasp the seatbelt.

“We’re here,” she says.

“I know,” Lexa mutters, hiding behind her shades, “I’m not blind, Clarke.”

“Well, I can see your girlfriend walking towards us so you should probably wipe that grumpy look off your face and  _pretend_  to look ecstatic,” Clarke points out, laughing when Lexa quickly pulls off her shades and scrambles out of the car. It breaks her heart a tiny crack but she continues to smile and shake her head, following after her best friend.

Costia is wearing another one of her famous floral dresses, hair twisted into intricate braids and a pink straw hat topped on her head. Lexa takes a moment to drink in her girlfriend and when Costia comes closer, a near blinding smile takes over her features. Clarke has to look away for several moments before she has the strength to look again.

Lexa has her arm wrapped around Costia’s middle, face pressed against the side of Costia’s head and they look so ridiculously happy that even though Clarke’s heart is breaking, she manages to smile.

“Hi, Clarke,” Costia calls out, waving her fingers.

Clarke waves back and then quickly moves over to where her friends are packed together. She can’t bear to look back so she focuses her attention on Octavia and Raven, who are now wrestling all over the sand and complaining about their nether regions. The beach is packed and Clarke spots many of her friends already passing cups of beer and enjoying themselves. Monty and Jasper have started a tug-of-war game in the middle of the shore. Wells is laughing about something Harper has said. Atom and Murphy are throwing cans into the fire they’ve so clearly set up. Even Bellamy is there, which isn’t surprising, because he’s always there to chaperone Octavia, even though his college is two states away. Clarke finally spots Finn watching with amusement as Raven picks herself up from the wrestling match, complaining of itches from where the sand has rubbed against her skin.

His face lights up when she approaches and he envelops her in an embrace so tight that he manages to swing her around a few times. She laughs and presses a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

“Glad you could make it,” he says, “I thought you might’ve ditched me to hang out with Lexa again.”

“That was  _one_  time,” Clarke complains. It wasn’t.

Finn rolls his eyes and kisses her on the forehead. He has always been incredibly sweet but right now, that sweetness makes Clarke feel like she’s almost choking. They’re both interrupted by Raven, who jumps onto Clarke’s back out of nowhere, laughing in glee when Clarke nearly stumbles.

“Fuck off, Reyes!” Clarke yells, but Raven tightens her hold and wraps her legs around Clarke’s middle.

“To the water, my steed!” Raven shouts and Clarke charges straight into the shore, nearly stumbling into Lincoln, who is sprawled on the sand, reading a book. She shouts an apology but it comes out muffled because Raven is  _still_  choking the life out of her. Her knees give out when they reach the water and Raven falls face-first into it. Clarke’s clothes are drenched within seconds and she glares at Raven when the girl resurfaces.

Raven just grins.

“What the hell was that for?” Clarke demands.

“You were looking like a kicked puppy so I had to lighten the mood,” Raven explains.

Clarke grabs a handful of sand and throws it at Raven, who ducks back into the water.

“I  _don’t_  look like a kicked puppy,” Clarke complains.

“Uh, you kind of do,” the other girl tells her, resurfacing again. She runs a hand through her hair, regarding the blonde quietly. “Did Finn do anything wrong? Because you can obviously tell me. Hoes before bros, right?”

“I thought it was the other way around.” Clarke huffs and then crawls deeper into the water until she’s halfway submerged. Raven stands and follows after her, the water clinging onto the two like blankets.

“So, did Finn do anything?”

“No.”

“O­- _kay_.”

“I’m serious. It’s not Finn. It’s not anything. I’m just overthinking, that’s all.”

“Is it Lexa?”

Clarke falls into silence and that’s an answer enough already. Raven swims over and wraps her arms and legs around the blonde, perching her chin against Clarke’s shoulder and pulling a kicked puppy look. Clarke rolls her eyes and tries to push her off but the other girl just tightens her hold. After a few minutes, Clarke gives out and lets Raven embrace her like a koala bear.

“You look cute when you’re sad,” Raven comments offhandedly.

“Reyes, you are not my type.”

“Well, now I’m just wasting my time.”

Clarke laughs, shoulders shaking as she pulls Raven even closer. “Whatever.”

Raven is silent for several seconds, until she says, “So, what is it about Lexa?”

Clarke doesn’t answer. She knows that if she tells Raven the truth, it’ll cause a strain between them. Because Raven loved Finn and Finn chose Clarke. To say that she’s in love with Lexa would only mean that she’s kind of cheating on Finn and she doesn’t think she can lose the two more people in her life because of a stupid confession. So she sighs, the gesture releasing some sorts of tension, before she turns back to Raven and forces a smile.

“Just a fight,” she says, her voice tight. Her tongue feels too heavy with the lie.

Raven doesn’t look like she believes her but instead of calling her out on her shit, she just shakes her head and says, “You two will get over it. You always do.”

 Clarke isn’t so sure.

//

Costia laughs when the ice cream Lexa bought unfortunately drops to the ground. The outraged look on Lexa’s face is immediately wiped off when Costia steps close and presses a fleeting kiss against her mouth, telling her that it’s okay and they’ll get another one. Lexa relaxes and throws the rest of the cone into the ground before grabbing at Costia’s waist and deepening the kiss.

Flashes of Clarke kissing her come into mind but she pushes them away and begs herself to  _forget_  because that’s what Clarke wants and she’d do anything for her best friend. She lets herself revel in the way Costia smiles against her mouth, lets herself enjoy the fact that she has a wonderfully beautiful girlfriend, who loves her as much as she does. She pulls away when Murphy catcalls at them.

“Fuck off, Jonathan!” Costia calls out, flipping the finger and Murphy scurries away.

Lexa smiles. “I am greatly reminded of why I fell in love with you in the first place,” she says.

Costia beams, a small shy smile taking over her features. She stands on her tip-toes and kisses Lexa one last time before she drags her over the fire. Lexa spots Lincoln and Octavia’s older brother, Bellamy, chatting idly with each other. Octavia has sneaked up on Jasper and is currently in the process of jumping into his back, shrieking with laughter and joy while Jasper tries and fails to throw her off.

Lexa searches the beach for a certain blonde but doesn’t find her. She squashes down the worry in her chest and turns back to Costia, who accepts a red solo cup from a passing Wells and drinks from it heartily.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” Lexa asks, leaning close and bumping noses with her girlfriend.

“Of course,” Costia says, still grinning, “I can’t wait to see you in a dress.”

“I can’t wait to see  _you_.”

Costia throws her head back and laughs. “I can’t believe nobody realizes how much of a sap you are.”

Lexa’s smile dims slightly. One person  _does_  know (she knows every part of Lexa Woods, even the bad ones) but she’s not going to say her name. If she says her name, then she’ll remember  _that_  night. It’s almost pitiful, how she can never seem to forget and how, even in her dreams, she still clings into it. She exhales through her nose and stares at the fire for a few seconds before she turns back to Costia.

“Only you know,” she says softly.

Costia nods and then lies down on Lexa’s lap, facing the fire and the sky. Lexa adjusts their position until they’re comfortable and she’s perched on a large, smooth rock behind her. Running her fingers through Costia’s hair, they remain in that position for a long period of time.

Lexa watches the surrounding, the peaceful serenity relaxing her. The sun has long gone from the skies, the stars have started to appear in numbers, the rest of the school is still gloriously young and Lexa has spotted Clarke emerging from the water, clothes drenched to her skin, her bra visible through the thin fabric, hair plastered against her cheeks and eyes as bright as the night sky above her.

Lexa inhales sharply, which stirs Costia from her reverie.

“You okay?” Costia asks.

“Yeah.” Lexa continues to run her fingers through Costia’s hair. “It’s just cold.”

Costia closes her eyes again and falls into a deep nap. Lexa watches her face for several long seconds before somebody plops down next to her and she turns to see that it’s Lincoln. He’s bare-chested, wearing only surfer shorts and flip flops, so his tattoos are in full display for the world to see. Lexa coolly raises her eyebrows at him when he grins cheekily.

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” he says quietly, so that Costia won’t wake.

“And you are disgustingly nude,” Lexa says in return.

Lincoln rolls his eyes before leaning in to say, “Octavia digs it.”

When Lexa looks over her shoulder, she sees Octavia hanging out with Raven and Clarke but her eyes are glued to where Lincoln is sitting. There is both lust and hunger in her gaze and it makes Lexa uncomfortable just by looking at it. So she looks back at her friend, who has a broad smirk written all over his face.

“You are both so gross.” Lexa makes a face when Lincoln just laughs.

“We are relationship goals,” he insists. He pulls his phone out from the pocket of his shorts and snaps a quick picture, with Lexa completely unaware. He laughs even harder when she tries to reach for his mobile without waking Costia up.

Lincoln’s fingers quickly move against the keypad before showing Lexa his Instagram post. He is grinning, eyes alight with mischief while Lexa continues to look down at Costia, who is still fast asleep. Some part of Lexa’s heart swells at the sight of her looking so unguarded.

 **@LincolnGrounderPounder** : together with the love birds <3  **@lexawoods** **@flowergirlCos**

It’s barely even seconds later before his phone buzzes and two comments pop up:

 **@thebetterblake:**  i ship it!!!!!!!!!!!

 **@partyanimalGriffin:**  thats a lot of exclaimation points O  **@thebetterblake**

Against her better judgment, Lexa glances over at where Octavia and Clarke are huddled together, their phones in hand. Clarke looks up at the exact moment and their gazes meet. The blonde offers a small smile, one that Lexa tightly returns. Her heart still breaks at the sight of her best friend and she hates herself for feeling like this, for  _caring_  so much even though Clarke obviously doesn’t.

Lincoln pries his phone from her hands. “Anyway, I have to go,” he tells her. He nods at Costia. “Don’t do the dirty here. Sand gets everywhere.”

“And you know this  _how_?” Lexa asks, raising her eyebrows.

Lincoln winks. “Let’s just say my sex life rivals a rabbit’s right now,” he murmurs and Lexa doesn’t really need that image stuck in her head so she impatiently shoos him away. He runs off, howling with laughter and Lexa stares at his retreating figure before fixing her eyes back on Costia.

“He’s wrong,” Costia suddenly says, still feigning sleep.

Lexa smiles. “About what?”

“They’re not relationship goals,” Costia mutters, wrapping an arm around Lexa’s waist and pulling her close. “ _We’re_  relationship goals.”

Lexa should be ridiculously happy at the admission of those said words but all she feels is a gaping hole in her chest and all she can think about is Clarke Griffin’s stupid, idiotic smile after they kissed in that stupid, idiotic bar. She wants nothing more than for that night to be erased in her memories but she also knows that she doesn’t want it to go away. It was her only chance and even though she blew it, she still wants it to stay.

(Even though it will always hurt.)

//

Clarke’s staring at the picture Lincoln recently just posted and debating whether or not she should put another comment when Octavia slaps her phone away and yells, “SKINNY DIPPING!” Clarke glares at her retreating figure and then shoves her phone back into her bag, climbing up to her feet and following after the rest of the teenagers already stripping off.

The night sky is full of twinkling stars tonight and Clarke can see the reflection of the moon shining on the water surface. She spots Jasper eagerly throwing his shorts away before running into the shore at full speed, Monty laughing and chasing after him. Octavia has dragged Lincoln with her, while a disapproving Bellamy watches by. Raven is in the middle of taking her bikini off when Wick sweeps her bridal style and jumps into the waves.

Finn pops in next to Clarke, wearing a lazy smirk on his face.

“After you?” he asks.

“I’d rather not,” Clarke says, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers together. His face lights up and she stands on her tip-toes and kisses him.

 _Lexa is watching_ , she thinks to herself as his mouth moves above hers. She clutches at his shoulders and tries not to think about her best friend in ways that are probably not suitable in this moment. She has a boyfriend, for God’s sake and Lexa has a girlfriend and they’re best friends and they’re not meant to be for each other. It’s the thought that forces her to kiss Finn even harder, that lets her hands roam his chest, that makes her forget that she is so madly in love with her best friend.

Finn pulls away with a loud  _smack_  and Clarke makes the mistake of glancing over at Lexa, who is definitely watching them. Her eyes are steely grey in the fire next to them and her jaw is clenched and she looks as if she could murder someone right there and then. Clarke’s guts twist uncomfortably and she swallows before looking back at Finn.

 _You should love Finn the way you love Lexa_ , a voice in her head tells her and she bites her lip so hard she can taste blood. Her chest feels bloated somehow and she wills herself to forget the scene at her birthday ever happened. Because as much as she knows that she’s in love with Lexa, she’s not going to risk their friendship. It is far too important, far too precious.

“Want to go somewhere?” Finn asks.

(They end up having sex in the back of Finn’s truck and Clarke wants nothing more than to wash the scent off her guilt in a cold shower.)

//

The night ends and everybody goes home with sand stuck in their ears and their clothes dripping wet. Lexa kisses Costia goodbye as she heads home with Lincoln and Wells, since they live in the same area. Then she waits by the fire for Clarke, since she’s her ride home. She sends her a quick text and lets the minutes pass.

After ten minutes of staring at the constellations in the sky and trying to remember where Sirius is, Lexa finally spots Clarke walking towards her, hands shoved to the pockets of her shorts with her jacket tightly bunched around her frame. Lexa frowns, because she’s never seen the blonde looking so distressed.

“Hey,” Lexa says, pocketing her phone.

Clarke glances up. She looks misty-eyed. “Hi,” she croaks.

“You okay?”

She nods but changes her mind halfway through because she wipes at her eyes and lets out a ragged breath. “I don’t know,” she finally says. She doesn’t offer anything else and Lexa doesn’t mind. She’s never known how to push Clarke, because she knows that if she does, Clarke will simply explode. So she takes her hand and together, they walk towards the beach, where Wells has so kindly cleaned up the beer bottles and solo cups.

Clarke stops them directly in front of the shore, toes nearly touching the water. Lexa drops her hand and runs her fingers through her hair, admiring the moonlight illuminating the surface of the ocean. The stars are out in their full brilliance and Lexa takes precautious moments to admire every single one of them. She’s waiting for Clarke to make the first move, though, and with every second passing by, she worries that her best friend might not say anything,

A minute passes and finally—

“Will you go to the dance with me?” Clarke asks, keeping her gaze on the water.

Lexa whips her head to look at the blonde. She can feel her eyebrows knitting together, a crease appearing between them. She doesn’t say anything because her throat has suddenly gotten too tight. Thinking about that night in the bar has made her feel suddenly very, very cold.

“We could go as friends,” Clarke says, her voice sheepish and weak. She’s not looking at Lexa and Lexa has to wonder if she’s afraid. The word  _friends_  stabs a hole in her chest and she has to bite back a laugh because what kind of friend is she? For kissing a drunken Clarke on her birthday?

“Clarke,” she says, her tone cautious.

“I know that this is rushed and all,” Clarke continues and Lexa notices the clenching and unclenching of her hands, “but are you considering it?”

“I’m going with Costia,” Lexa says, the corners of her mouth growing heavy with every word. Her shoulders tense and she closes her eyes briefly. “You’re going with Finn. There’s no need to complicate things.”

When Lexa turns to look at her, there is pain and rejection written all over the blonde’s features. She looks as if she’s been punched in the gut and Lexa has to restrain herself from reaching over and holding her hand. Because she’s right. They’re complicated and messy; fourteen years of friendship filled with laughter, tears and grief and Lexa loves Costia and Clarke loves Finn and it doesn’t matter if Lexa is also in love with her best friend.  It just doesn’t matter.

“You’re right,” Clarke says softly, “There’s no need to complicate things.”

It’s a lie and they both know it.

//

There’s a knock on the door and her mother stops fussing long enough for Clarke to squeeze away the group of ladies to open it. Lexa stands on the other side, looking absolutely stunning in her white dress, while she holds a bunch of cosmetics in her hand. She doesn’t have any make-up on and she looks sheepish as she regards Clarke carefully.

(Clarke forgets to breathe for a few seconds before she finally snaps out of it.)

“I need help,” Lexa mutters.

“I’m sorry?” Clarke says, grinning broadly, “I can’t hear you. You need to speak louder.”

Lexa rolls her eyes before repeating, “I need help. With my make-up. My dad is amazing at times but he has no talent in the cosmetics area.” She shrugs when Clarke laughs.

“Okay, since you asked so nicely.” Clarke opens the door wider and Lexa ducks inside.

The living room is an absolute mess. Clarke’s invited most of her gal friends to ready at her place, which proves to be a disaster. Raven is in the middle of curling her hair while shouting profanities into her phone. Clarke’s mom is helping Octavia into her dress and they’re both complaining that the zipper is stuck. Monroe is currently on all fours looking for her heels and Harper is hastily applying make-up on. The only calm person in the room seems to be Maya, because she’s already prepared and talking on the phone with Jasper, a lazy smile on her lips.

“You’re not dressed yet,” Lexa points out.

Clarke shrugs. “I was too busy doing my hair,” she says, gesturing at her head. “Took me four hours but I finally got the curls right.”

“You look beautiful,” Lexa says, glancing shyly at her, “even though you’re still wearing sweatpants.”

Clarke laughs and shakes her head before grabbing blindly at Lexa’s hand and dragging her upstairs. Lexa nearly stumbles once or twice on her heels but Clarke is always there to keep her upright. They slam the door shut on Clarke’s room and Lexa quickly moves to the vanity table, checking her hair and frowning at the lack of make-up.

“You look gorgeous,” Clarke tells her, ignoring the rapid beating of her heart.

Lexa throws her a small smile. “Thank you,” she says, “but I’m expecting to be blown off my feet once I see Costia.”

“I think it’s going to be the other way around.”

“Again, thank you.”

Clarke walks over towards her and picks up some foundation. Her fingers are slightly shaking, she realizes and she waits for them to still. Then she tells Lexa to sit down and the other girl obliges.

Clarke’s fingers move steadily against Lexa’s cheeks and she fills in the silence with small talk.

“How’s Stanford?” she asks.

“Still waiting for the letter,” Lexa answers shortly. She watches Clarke under hooded lids and it makes Clarke’s skin itch. “What about you? Have you been accepted?”

Clarke’s mouth suddenly goes dry and she averts Lexa’s persistent gaze. Truth be told, she hasn’t been thinking about college too much, especially with Finn insisting that they don’t need to spend countless tuition money for it. Her mom’s already working most of the night shifts and Stanford is located in California, which is a long way from home. She can’t bear to leave this place, where her memories of her father linger in every crook and corner. Besides, Finn has been whispering about moving in together, getting married, having an easy job—no college, no money, no stress. Just the two of them against the world. It’s a fair offer and she’s been thinking about it for weeks now.

“Not yet,” she lies, shrugging. Her application letters are lying underneath the bottom part of her closet, tucked away, forgotten and unsent. She wonders if Lexa will hate her, if she ever knew the truth.

Lexa doesn’t look she believes her but she doesn’t say anything about it. That’s what Clarke loves and hates about her, truthfully. Because they can go on weeks fighting without saying anything but they can also spend precious moments drinking in silence instead of useless chatter. Clarke has never known how to shut her mouth, so she’s grateful to Lexa for always doing so.

“Anyway,” Clarke says, not so subtly changing the subject. She finishes with the foundation and gestures at Lexa to close her eyes, since eyeliner is next. “Where’s Costia headed off to, after graduation?”

“Wellington, New Zealand,” Lexa answers, voice awfully small.

Clarke holds off putting the eyeliner on, frowning as she regards the sadness in Lexa’s frown.

“Can you handle long distance?” she asks.

“I’m pretty sure I can’t,” Lexa says, eyes still closed, “which is why I’m deciding to break it off with her, after graduation.”

Clarke’s hand stop moving and she leans back with a crease between her eyebrows. Lexa pops one eye open and sighs when she sees the disapproving look Clarke has written all over her face.

“I know that it sounds harsh and not to mention, abrupt and cold but—”

“No shit, Sherlock!” Clarke says indignantly, shaking her head in disgust when Lexa clamps her mouth shut. “Costia’s obviously, freaking in love with you and you’re just going to break her heart? Like  _that_?”

“I cannot afford to get distracted in my studies,” Lexa states, her gaze steely as she glares at Clarke.

“Costia is not a distraction,” Clarke tells her.

“She’ll call at random times; when I’m sleeping, when I’m studying, when I’m in class and there’s no guarantee for me that I might actually return her calls. Breaking it off—while we’re still facing each other—it’s the best thing for everyone.” Lexa takes a deep breath and Clarke notices, for the first time, that her eyes are shining. “Besides, first loves do not last.”

Clarke feels as if she’s been punched in the gut. She places her hands on the vanity table, looks at her reflection in the mirror and tries to ignore the way she can see her heart shattering all over her features.

“Am  _I_  a distraction?” Clarke asks, her voice impossibly soft.

Lexa takes too long to answer. “Clarke,” she says, sounding pained.  She doesn’t look at her. Instead, she spends several seconds twisting her fingers together until she finally adds, “Yes.”

Clarke feels very cold all of a sudden. She takes a deep breath, shakes her head and then turns to Lexa again, this time holding up the eyeliner. Lexa looks confused but when Clarke tells her to close her eyes, she obeys.

Clarke finishes applying Lexa’s make-up on and when Lexa leaves to pick up Costia for the dance, she places her hand on Clarke’s wrist and whispers, “Thank you.”

(Clarke’s skin burns from where Lexa has touched her.)

//

Lexa cannot find it in herself to enjoy the night. Mostly it’s because Clarke has thrown a huge curveball at her, punching her right in the gut and making her lose focus. And she  _tries_. God, she tries to pay attention to Costia, who is as radiant as ever—peach-colored dress, high heels, flowers in her hair, eyes bright and so beautiful—but she can’t. Clarke’s face haunts her, even in the dazzling lights and pounding music. She remembers the look on her best friend’s face, hurt and angry, distressed and sorrowful.  _Am I distraction_? She had asked. Lexa wasn’t lying. Clarke  _is_  a distraction. She always has been, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing.

Costia tugs at her hand suddenly and Lexa looks up, eyebrows raised.

“You okay?” Costia asks, frowning.

Lexa’s throat tightens. “I’m fine,” she answers.

“You can talk to me, Lex,” Costia insists, pressing close and staring at Lexa for several long seconds. They’re standing in a far corner, away from the dancing crowd, flashing lights and trembling speakers. Lexa spots Clarke dancing with Finn over Costia’s shoulder and the weight in her chest increases.

 _I have to tell her_ , she realizes, meeting Costia’s gaze again,  _I have to tell her_  now.

“Do you want to go outside?” Lexa questions, straightening her shoulders and keeping her head held high.

Costia licks her lips, looking worried. Lexa wonders if she knows what’s coming. But she supposes that she can explain all the necessities later. Already, she’s looking at this as something to be checked off her list, an objective to be cleared off and she finally understands why people always call her heartless. They're not wrong. She takes Costia's hand, relishes the warmth she feels and then drags her outside the gym, towards the football fields where everything is wide and spacious and the stars are out in their full brilliance and nobody can hear the shattering of her heart when she finally breaks  _this_  off. 

Costia's shoulders are bare so Lexa pulls out her favorite sweater and drapes it across her neck. Costia looks at her gratefully, tugging at the fabric. 

"The sky is beautiful, don't you think?" Lexa says in lieu of an introduction and Costia glances at the stars, breathing unsteadily. They stand there for a few minutes, soaking in the cold, night air and the silence between them. Lexa takes this time to figure out what she's going to say,  _if_  she's able to say anything at all.  _I'm breaking up with you_  doesn't seem to be a good start.  _It's not you, it's me_  sounds an awful like all the cliches she and Clarke watched as kids.  _I love you but I'm also in love with my best friend_. That one sticks to her head and her heart quickens its pace when she actually  _considers_  saying that out loud. 

She  _can't_ say it out loud. If she does, then it'll be far too  _real_. And it's not real. It doesn't matter. Clarke Griffin doesn't matter to her when it comes to the romantic affairs of the heart.

"I know what you're going to say," Costia blurts out suddenly, while Lexa is still in the middle of processing her thoughts. 

"You do?" Lexa asks, jerking when Costia shakes her head and lets out another ragged sigh. 

"I'm lying," she mumbles, "I  _don't_  know what you're going to say and it scares the hell out of me." 

Lexa allows herself to smile. "You were always so outspoken," she says fondly. Then she winces. She probably shouldn't have said that.

" _Now_  you're scaring the fuck out of me." Costia tightens her jaw and burns a hole against the side of Lexa's head. Lexa can't bear to look at her. 

"Costia..." 

"You're breaking up with me." 

Lexa doesn't answer, which is an answer itself. Costia inhales sharply then let out a cold, humorless laugh. She tightens the sweater around her shoulders and shifts her weight, moving away from Lexa within a few inches. And it breaks Lexa's heart, because it's barely been a minute and they're already so far apart. She pulls her lips into a straight line, runs her fingers through her hair and take another calming breath. 

"You're going to New Zealand," Lexa reminds her, "I'm moving to California. It's just too far apart." 

"Bullshit," Costia says, detached but almost,  _almost_  angry. "We've been together for a year, three if you count the time we spent tiptoeing around each other." 

 _Three years does not compare to fourteen_ , Lexa thinks to herself and she nearly laughs at the absurdity of the situation. Here she is, breaking up with her girlfriend and the only person she can think about is Clarke Griffin. She must've fallen pretty badly for her to get to this stage. 

"I can't handle a long distance relationship," Lexa manages to say, the words shaky against her tongue.

Costia's eyes search her face. She must've found something, because she steps back and shakes her head, mouth turned up in a cruel smile. "You're lying," she states blankly, "and I've known you long enough for me to spot the difference from when you're trying to convince someone or when you're trying to convince yourself."

Lexa crosses her arms; a defense mechanism she uses to soften the blow of whatever words someone is going to say to her face. She's used this mechanism plenty of times against Clarke's harsh, biting words and she's never thought to use it against Costia. Costia, who is always sweet and understanding, outspoken but gentle, caring and loving. Now she just seems  _desperately_  angry. 

"What are you talking about?" Lexa asks. 

"You're not breaking up with me because of some half-assed reason about distance," Costia says, her tone steely hard, "This is about something else." 

"I can assure you, that's not the case." 

"This is about Clarke." 

Lexa's mouth clamps shut and her eyes widen a fraction and  _no, no, no, please don't say it out loud_. Her spine has gone rigid, her fingers have started shaking and there's a cold, heavy weight pressed against her chest and she knows that if Costia says it out loud, then it will make it real. It  _will_  be real and she won't be able to do anything but accept it. It might have always been a fact but Lexa's never the type of person to accept things that she is not positively sure of.

And she's  _still_  not sure she loves Clarke Griffin or not. As a friend or something more. 

"You're in love with her," Costia says, her voice dangerously low and Lexa shuts her eyes as the weight of those words finally start a flame in her chest, a flame which she has long thought died out. She  _is_  in love with Clarke. Completely, erratically, impossibly in love with Clarke Griffin. And it's  _real_  and it  _matters_  but she doesn't have a say in it anymore, because Clarke has Finn and now Lexa has no one. She looks down at her feet, shuffles them before forcing her eyes back up again. 

"I'm sorry, Costia," Lexa says, her voice tight with regret. 

"So it's true." 

" _Yes_."

Costia nods, accepting this. Her eyes are bright with unshed tears and Lexa turns to her, lips tucked in a small, sad smile. 

"At least we didn't fall out of love," Costia mutters. 

"I  _do_  love you," Lexa says, in hopes of making it all worth it. She cannot just shatter the heart of the one person she's been intertwined with for the past three years.  _They_  meant something, even though they just don't mean everything right now. "I  _am_  in love with you. I just—"

"You love her more." 

Lexa grows quiet. Then, she adds, "It took me fourteen years to realize it and I don't want to waste another second." 

Costia pales slightly. " _Fourteen_  years?" she asks. 

"I've been in love with her for as long as we've been friends, from the moment she stumbled into my life," Lexa answers, tears stinging the back of her eyes, "I really am sorry, Costia." 

Costia surprises her. She always has, so it seems only fitting that their last time together will be the same thing. She flings her arms around Lexa's neck and Lexa is quick to wrap hers around Costia's waist. She takes in a deep, shuddering breath as Costia buries her face against her neck. They're both crying, she realizes and her tears fall against the flowers on her (ex) girlfriend's hair. 

Costia pulls away and places a soft, chaste kiss against her lips. Lexa kisses her back, because they're moving to different sides of the world, Costia's heart is breaking and Lexa is in love with someone else. It's possibly one of the saddest love stories in history—where people are honestly, ridiculously perfect for each other and they're ripped apart by the word  _almost_. 

(Not for the first time, Lexa wishes she wasn't in love with Clarke Griffin.)

//

Finn drags her away from the dance floor and into the parking lot outside the gym. They are both drunk, since Jasper and Monty decided to spike the punch with too much alcohol. And they're both laughing with adrenaline and exhaustion, high with giddiness and how young the night is. Somewhere along the way, Clarke has lost the corsage Finn gave her and Finn's tie is nowhere to be seen. They pay no attention to it, however, because Clarke is too busy kissing the hell out of her boyfriend.

"Hold up, hold up." Finn pulls away, grabbing Clarke's hand and pulling her towards his truck. 

Clarke makes a small noise. She's drunk and horny and her boyfriend is grinning at her with this mischievous glint in his eyes. She grabs his cheeks, tries to pull him close again but he shakes his head and presses his body against hers, pinning her to the truck behind her back. 

" _Finn_ ," Clarke whines. 

"Clarke," Finn mutters. Clarke twitches. The way he says her name—it's different with the way Lexa says hers. Finn says it with reverence, with adoration, with  _love_ and Lexa says it with just the right amount of fondness, exasperation and genuine awe. Clarke has found herself comparing the two for quite a while now, finding missing spaces in Finn where Lexa easily fits in, realizing that Finn doesn't know  _this_  story or  _that_  experience, discovering that maybe she's been wrong all these time. 

 _It doesn't matter_ , she tells herself when Finn takes a step back and looks at her for several seconds,  _Lexa doesn't love you_ that _way._

"I have to show you something," he says, smiling widely. 

Clarke doesn't say anything. Thinking about Lexa has sobered her and she watches with detached interest as Finn pulls out something from the inside pockets of his suit and goes down on one knee. The sight is enough to rock her and she stands there, her jaw dropping, while Finn looks up, his smile reaching his cheeks, as he shows her a ring he clearly made himself. It's made of scrap metal but there's a figure of a Griffin's head topped in the middle and it's beautiful and creative and  _holy shit_ , he's proposing to her. They're eighteen years old and he's  _proposing_ to her. 

"I know it's not the real thing," he says. Clarke's mouth continues to close and open. "But I love you, Clarke Griffin and I want you to stay with me for the rest of my life." 

"Finn—" Clarke manages to choke out. Her eyes are still fixed on the ring. "We're too young."

"I don't care," Finn interjects, "I love you and you love me and what's the point in waiting? We can get married after graduation and I can find a job and you can work at that tattoo shop I told you about. We don't have to go to college. We don't have to waste money on something we don't want. We can stay  _together_." 

And  _this_ —this is what every girl wants. For a boy to love her unconditionally, without any setbacks, without any distractions. For a boy to lay waste to the future because he loves you and  _that's_  all that matters. For a boy to ask you to marry him on the night of the Homecoming Dance, where the night is still young and beautiful. Clarke should be happy. She should be so ridiculously and utterly happy. She's been chasing after Finn since they were ten years old and it's perfect, because even though they've been only together for a year, they've loved each other far longer than that. 

But Clarke thinks of Lexa and she wants to say  _no_. 

"Finn," she mumbles, trying to find the words. 

"Marry me, Clarke," Finn says, still smiling, "and make me the happiest man on earth." 

Clarke  _thinks_ about it. She thinks, and she realizes, and she grows sad. Because Finn loves her and she loves him too. But she's in love with Lexa and Lexa is in love with someone else, even though she's going to break up with Costia after graduation. Besides, Lexa believes her to be a  _distraction._ She has to face it. She and Lexa are not meant to be together. They're messy and complicated and it's fourteen years of friendship and just  _that_. 

Besides, Lexa wants her to go to Stanford and her mom wants her to go to Med school. But the thought of returning to the hospital, where her father was supposed to go, before his untimely death—it makes her want to vomit. And it makes her cold and it makes her wish her dad was still alive, because she knows that he would've supported her in any way possible. She thinks about a job in a tattoo parlor and it doesn't seem so bad. She thinks about a life as Mrs. Collins and there are certainly worse ways in which she could end up as. But the more she thinks about it, the more she thinks of Lexa.

Can she really do this? Can she marry Finn and forget about the fact that she’s spent the past fourteen years being in love with Lexa Woods, without even realizing it?  Can she just erase all of these unrequited feelings and  _move_  on? There’s nothing to move on from, however, because they were never together in the first place.

That’s the thought that drives her to fling her arms around Finn and say, “ _Yes_.”

She doesn’t think about Lexa—she can’t bear to, especially when she feels as if she’s just slammed the last nail into her own coffin.

//         

It takes Lexa a week to bring it up and Clarke doesn’t handle it too well.

They’re doing homework in the Griffin’s living room and Lexa has her pen between her teeth, alternating between chewing the top of it and actually using it to write equations on the margins of her notes. Clarke, however, is a different story. She’s spent most of her time on her phone instead of the book in front of her, a nervous energy radiating from every inch of her skin. Lexa has spent the past few minutes trying to gather the courage to ask her what’s wrong but she hasn’t. Instead, she chewed her lip and held back her words.

She’s been trying to bring up Costia for the past week or so but Clarke has either been too busy with Finn or just plain uninterested during their time together. Lexa has noticed the metal ring around her finger but has never thought of it as being important, pushing it off as a promise ring of some sorts. She can’t ignore the way her heart stutters every time she catches Clarke staring at it in wonder, however.

She and Finn have been inseparable these past few days and it’s almost hilarious, how Lexa breaks up with her girlfriend only to have the person she’s in love with sink her hands in deeper with her boyfriend. Completely pathetic. Lexa wishes that she could undo some things in the past.

It’s not like Clarke returns her feelings or whatsoever.

(Lexa even feels  _stupid_  just by hoping for it.)

Lexa’s already on her fifth problem when she glances over and realizes that Clarke hasn’t even finished the first one. The blonde in question is still staring at her phone with a mixture of concentration and annoyance and Lexa finds it utterly endearing and worrisome.

“Clarke,” she calls out, clearing her throat when Clarke doesn’t move. She tries again, more assertive, “ _Clarke_.”

Clarke doesn’t answer. Lexa sighs and reaches over to pinch her best friend’s cheek. This time, the blonde  _does_ move, turning around and scowling at the brunette. Lexa raises her eyebrow before she gestures at Clarke’s unfinished Algebra homework.

“You haven’t even completed a single problem yet,” she says.

Clarke rolls her eyes dramatically before putting her phone down. The screen is still on and Lexa feels a flush of pleasure seeing that the background is still of her and Clarke. Even Finn can’t take away their fourteen year old bond.

“You know I hate Math,” Clarke comments offhandedly.

“I  _do_  know.”

“I like Physics.”

“Clarke, I know.”

They fall into another comfortable silence. Lexa looks away from Clarke’s phone and starts on her sixth problem.

“Am I still a distraction?” Clarke suddenly asks out of nowhere, keeping her focus locked on the text in front of her while idly rolling her pen between her fingers. Lexa’s gaze snap towards her, her mouth gently falling open and Clarke licks her lips before finally meeting her eyes.

“I—” When Lexa answered that question a week ago; she had regretted it the instant the word came out of her mouth. But she can’t take it back. Taking it back now would mean admitting that she was wrong, and she’s not, because Clarke  _is_  a distraction—she  _is._  She makes Lexa’s head spin, makes Lexa’s heart stutter, makes Lexa’s breath catch in her throat. She haunts Lexa’s dreams every night, painfully and achingly reminding her of that once-in-a-lifetime kiss they had shared. And everywhere Lexa lets her eyes fall on her best friend, she is hit with a wave of nostalgia, because she knows everything about her, every inch of Clarke Griffin has a story linked with Lexa Woods and if that’s not distracting enough, she doesn’t know what is.

Clarke doesn’t look away. Neither does Lexa.

This moment seems entirely too precious somehow and Lexa takes a deep, calming breath before she says, “I broke up with Costia during the dance.”

Clarke obviously didn’t expect that. She blinks once and then twice before leaning back and staring at Lexa with part wonder, part shock and Lexa forces the thought of Costia saying, “ _You’re in love with her_ ” from her head before she adds, “She was very…hurt by the abruptness of it all.”

“Lexa, what the fuck?” Clarke finally mutters, and she almost makes Lexa laugh, if it wasn’t for the fact that Lexa suddenly feels as if she’s messed up really badly. She puts down her pen, runs a hand through her curly hair and then looks back at Clarke again. Every part of her body is tense, and she wants to run, wants to walk away from the look of shock on Clarke's face, wants to bury her face into her hands and never have to face these damning feelings. She wants to forget but she knows she can't. She broke up with Costia for  _this_ , for a chance to start anew, for her to  _try_.

Clarke still hasn’t moved from her position. Her blue eyes are wide and anxious and she's chewing on her lower lip.

“I thought you said you’d break up with her after graduation,” Clarke quietly says.

“It seemed like the right time,” Lexa admits.

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Clarke seethes, looking very angry, “What the hell happened? What made you change your mind? Why did you do it on the night where the two of you were supposed to be happy?”

“Too many questions,” Lexa mutters, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She lets out a sharp inhale and finally says, “I had to do it. It would’ve been worse if I had done it at graduation, with the adrenaline and high of it. I wouldn’t have wanted to sour her entire day.”

“But you would’ve had  _time_ ,” Clarke insists and her anger quietly morphs into sadness, “You would’ve been together.”

Lexa swallows painfully. Not a single day has gone by without her thinking about Costia’s well-being. The day after the dance, Costia had walked up to her house and promptly dropped off her things. Lexa had done the same thing after a few hours, never talking to each other except for the necessary, "Is that all?" Lexa had then said her formalities to Costia's parents and wished them the best of luck. She didn't even look at Costia when she left.

“First loves don’t last, Clarke,” Lexa says by explanation.

“You need to stop thinking like that,” Clarke scolds, rolling her eyes. Her phone suddenly starts vibrating but she doesn’t pick it up. She is solely focused on Lexa now, her gaze heavy with disapproval and barely concealed disgust. Lexa feels her heart rapidly picking up its pace and she has to force herself _not_ to look away.

“Look, it was for the best,” Lexa mumbles, “It meant something to me but now it’s over, so can we please just let it go?”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Well, maybe it’s because you’ve been on your phone for the past hours and with Finn for the past days.” Lexa’s jaw tightens and she clenches her hands into fists as the words stumble out of her mouth; “I _barely_ get to see you now. Which isn’t right, because I’ve been your best friend for fourteen years and I think I deserve a little bit of scoop in your life.”

Clarke reels back, almost as if she’s been slapped. The back of Lexa’s eyes sting and she’s suddenly very aware of how her entire body seems to be shaking, either with anger or with uncertainty. She’s never liked situations where she isn’t in control and now she feels as if she’s just tipped the whole scale with her semi-confession.

“You really feel that way?” Clarke asks, after a moment. Her eyes are wet.

Lexa licks her lips. Then nods.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke amends, frowning when Lexa doesn’t look at her, “I guess, I’ve been really busy with Finn. Especially with college applications coming up. I’m just trying to make everything last.”

Lexa grinds her teeth so hard she’s surprised they don’t break. Clarke sighs quietly and after a few minutes of insufferable silence, reaches over to take Lexa’s hand. Lexa looks up at her, only to find the blonde staring at the surface of the table with the saddest expression on her face.

Lexa wants nothing more than to reach out and kiss her, make that look fade away, make Clarke Griffin the happiest person in the planet just with a brush of their lips and the confession of three words. But she doesn’t. Because Clarke has Finn and Lexa used to have Costia, but now she has nothing except for a heart full of yearning and feelings she can’t put into words. So, she drops Clarke’s hand and says, very quietly,

“Be happy, Clarke.”

She doesn’t add _even if it’s without me_ but she suspects that Clarke hears it anyway.

//

Clarke _tries_. She _tries_ to make everything last. But she’s been hiding her ring whenever she’s with Lexa, and she doesn’t mention wanting to go to California when she’s together with Finn. She doesn’t tell her mom about getting married and she doesn’t tell her friends that she’s not going to college. It’s like she’s leading a double life or something but truthfully, she _is_ happy. She’s happy when Finn takes her out to dinner and to the movies. She’s happy when Lexa pops over at her house for homework or simply just to catch up. She’s happy when her mom wakes up to make breakfast. She’s happy when Raven and Octavia make her laugh so hard she collapses.

She’s _happy_ and she clings onto that feeling with a vice grip, because she knows that it won’t last. Sooner or later, her mom will find out about the ring, Lexa will move away to California, Raven and Octavia will start to pack up their things for New York and she’ll be left alone in this small town with nothing except for a job at a tattoo shop and a husband who loves her unconditionally.

The worst part about all of this is that she can’t tell Lexa. She can _never_ tell Lexa. It’ll break her heart. Worse, it might make her hate Clarke too. There are many things Clarke can handle but having Lexa hate for the rest of her life—she just _can’t_ stand that. She can barely handle a few weeks without talking to her but a lifetime? It seems like a prison sentence. The final nail to her coffin. No. Lexa can never know.

But then Clarke finds out about Costia and she feels as if the universe has somehow conspired to make her completely miserable.

She’s lying in her room with her face turned to the ceiling, every part of her body screaming in agony as the realization that Lexa is finally _single_ —finally hers for the taking—quickly settle into her mind. But she has Finn’s ring around her finger and she has his promise that they’d stay together forever. And it’s horrible, because she loves him, she really does—but he suffocates her sometimes and she really, really needs to breathe.

She wipes away at the wet corners of her eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. She twists her ring around her finger, before making up her mind and reaching for her phone in the bedside table. She presses her speed dial and waits patiently for Lexa to pick up in the other end.

“Hello?” Lexa says, sounding groggy.

“I can’t sleep,” Clarke mutters. It’s 1 AM, and she’s been beating herself by thinking these ungodly thoughts. Closing her eyes and inhaling another breath, she says, “and I miss you.”

“Clarke, we literally saw each other three hours ago,” Lexa mumbles.

“I know, I know.” Clarke bites her lower lip as she sniffles. Lexa catches the sound and quickly pounces on it.

“Wait, are you crying?”

“No, I’m not.” She’s lying—that’s obvious enough—and Lexa can hear her and Clarke is crying because she’s engaged to a boy she loves, even though she’s in love with her best friend and everything shouldn’t be _this_ complicated, _this_ messy, _this_ catastrophic but oh God, it is. And this is not the first time Clarke wonders why her life has turned out this way.

“Clarke, I know you.” Lexa’s voice is very soft now and Clarke crumbles at the sound of it.

“Come inside?” Clarke asks, trying not to sound too hopeful. She obviously fails.

“I’m already on my way.”

Lexa ends the call and Clarke stares at her background photo for longer than necessary. It’s a picture of her and Lexa at school, sitting cross legged in the library while laughing at something Clarke said. Octavia was the one who took the said photo, commenting sourly that they look so much like a couple and that they’re so completely gross with each other. Clarke remembers Lexa shrugging it off but she also remembers the tight feeling in her chest at the admission of such words. Thankfully, nobody noticed.

As she waits, Clarke tugs Romeo against her chest, placing her chin against its stuffed head. It’s barely a minute later, when Lexa opens the door to her room and flops down on the bed next to her. She’s wearing sweatpants and a loose shirt, which shows off her collarbones. Clarke makes a pleased noise at the back of throat when Lexa raises her head and blinks sleepy-eyed at her.

“What’s wrong?” Lexa asks, her voice husky.

“I just can’t sleep,” Clarke mumbles.

“Worried about graduation?”

“I’m more worried about life, to be honest,” Clarke says, propping her chin against her hand as she meets Lexa’s tired gaze, “but I’ll get over it.”

Lexa frowns, a crease appearing between her eyebrows. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Clarke answers. She crawls on the left side of the bed and Lexa sighs before doing the same, dropping next to the blonde on the right. She turns off the nightlight and Clarke searches the blankets for her best friend’s hand. When she finds it, she carefully intertwines their fingers together, taking the time to feel palm against palm, warmth mingling with warmth, Lexa’s skin connected with her own and some part of her thinks that she’s going to be okay with _this_ , with just being friends but she knows that she’s lying. A bigger part of her will always yearn for _more_.

Clarke can’t see Lexa’s face in the dark but she knows she’s awake. They’ve spent years sleeping next to each other so Clarke knows all about the brunette’s sleeping patterns. Clarke always falls asleep first.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

 _No_ , Clarke wants to say, _I’m not okay. I agreed to marry Finn, even though I’m in love with_ you _. But there is no way you’ll ever feel the same thing for me._

“I’m okay.”

“ _Clarke_.”

“Lexa, please.” Clarke sighs, her heart fluttering when Lexa tightens her grip, “I’m fine. I just—I want you here.”

“You know I’ll never leave you right?” Lexa’s tone is hushed and quiet, leaving no room for argument and Clarke wants to laugh, because Lexa truly _believes_ that. She believes that Clarke will follow her to Stanford, the same way she has always followed Clarke.

 _But you will leave_ , Clarke thinks, her eyes fluttering shut, _you’ll leave for California and you’ll leave_ me.

“I know.”

//

Lexa tugs on her graduation cap for the fifth time during the ceremony. It’s becoming a bad habit, but she’s been sitting on her ass for the past two hours while roll call finishes and it’s not exactly the most ideal position. Her back is straight against her chair and her head is turned slightly up. She’s on the stage with the diploma clutched tightly in her hand and Raven is currently mumbling her Valedictorian speech next to her.

It still stings, that Lexa will graduate as Salutatorian instead of Valedictorian but if there’s anybody who deserves that title then it’s definitely Raven Reyes.

“You’re going to be fine,” Lexa says from the corner of her mouth. She’s been staring at the clock for the past two hours and the back of her eyes are starting to sting.

Raven not so subtly glances over at her. “Yeah, well I’m awesome so there’s no need to remind me of that well known fact.” She sighs, shakes her head. “Can’t believe the best time of my life is finally over.”

“I hear college is going to be better,” Lexa whispers. She looks down at the audience, has to bite back a smile when her father grins at her.

“College,” Raven deadpans, snorting, “I hear it’s going to be worse.”

“Well, you’re awesome so you’re probably going to ace that too.”

Raven nearly laughs out loud. She chooses to snort loudly instead, which earns her a glare from Mr. Jaha. When the principal is no longer looking, she glances over at Lexa, wearing a grin that seems entirely too big for her face. Lexa smiles in return, because Raven has been a good friend to her these past years and she’s glad to have known her, even though she is a bit of an asshole.

“Thanks, Woods.”

“Whatever, Reyes.”

Lexa meets Clarke’s eyes from the audience. The blonde looks stunning, hair curled perfectly against her shoulders, light make-up admonishing her features, her smile as bright and radiant as the sun. She seems happy, sitting next to Octavia and Wells Jaha. But when they lock gazes, Clarke’s smile falters and she looks the way she’s always looked at Lexa these past few days, like she’s drinking every inch of Lexa in, almost as if she’s terrified the brunette will fade away.

She snaps her attention away from her best friend when Principal Jaha calls Raven for her speech. Everybody claps politely and there are even a few cheers from the graduates. Raven clears her throat, looks pleased with herself when the clapping doesn’t die down for a while. Then she taps her graduation cap and looks at the crowd.

“I know that most of you will think that I’ll deliver this witty as hell speech, where you’ll be laughing with tears running down your cheeks,” Raven says, cracking a smile when there’s laughter, “but unfortunately, Mr. Jaha warned me beforehand that I should _not_ do that. So here I am, standing in front of you with an emotional speech memorized to the heart.”

Raven taps her hands against the podium, clearing her throat again.

“Today embarks a new step to our lifelong journey,” Raven begins, her expression actually serious. Lexa spots Clarke and Octavia grinning with pride. “Many of us will cross paths in the future but there is no denying that we may not see each other’s faces at some point. I expect that you’ll all be seeing Ms. Blake on the cover of a magazine or Mr. Green as the author of a science fiction book ten years from now because let’s be honest, those two idiots will probably be the most successful out of all of us.” The graduating class laughs and Raven’s smile widens. “I sincerely hope that we will live our life to the fullest, and that we will achieve our dreams because we’ve spent the past eighteen years of our lives in school in order to reach our fullest potential. It’d be a shame if we waste it. But we won’t know unless we all see each other again ten years from now, on our high school reunion. Until then, may we meet again.”

The class roars, stomping their feet against the ground and clapping loudly. Jasper and Monty, both wearing identical ties, are standing, yelling with fierce pride and joy. Lexa scans the crowd, looking at the happy faces of her classmates. Most of them look relieved to finally be freed from high school and some are even crying. Even John Murphy looks pleased. Lexa catches Costia’s gaze. She’s sitting at the front, so it’s been difficult to try and ignore her but Lexa gathers whatever courage she has left and turns to her ex-girlfriend. Costia has flowers tucked on top of her graduation cap, which isn’t a surprise. She looks beautiful and Lexa feels a stab of nostalgia.

When Costia smiles (even though it’s tinged with sadness) at her for the first time in weeks, Lexa realizes that she’s going to be okay.

//

The first thing Clarke does when the ceremony is over is to find Lexa. She stumbles over her toga, nearly loses her cap in the process, has to chase her diploma when it flies away from her hands before she finally catches sight of her best friend talking to her father, her cheeks flushed red with a smile so blinding that Clarke has to pause for several seconds to catch her breath.

Lexa spots her almost immediately. Her face lights up like the sun and Clarke’s breath gets knocked out of her lungs all over again. They cross the yard towards each other and Clarke bumps a few elbows with some of her classmates before she’s finally close enough to fling her arms around Lexa. The other girl lets out a surprised laugh and Clarke squeezes her until she’s sure that neither of them can breathe.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, chuckling as they pull away. Clarke’s eyes are wet and Lexa wipes away the tears with a small smile on her face. “No need to get emotional.”

“Sorry,” Clarke mumbles, “Graduation vibes.” She moves to hug Lexa again and Lexa obliges, rubbing the back of Clarke’s head comfortingly. A huge wave of nostalgia hits Clarke right there and then, as she remembers the last time they were so intimately intertwined like this. Her father’s funeral, with Clarke crying against Lexa’s shoulder at the unfairness of it all. It parallels this exact moment as well. Because Lexa is inevitably going to leave and Clarke is going to stay.

Clarke is the first to pull away this time. She offers a shaky smile.

“At least we still have this summer,” she says.

The smile Lexa has on her face is immediately wiped off. She averts her gaze from Clarke’s and then Clarke blinks before taking a step back, already missing the warmth of Lexa’s closeness.

“Unless you already have plans,” Clarke mumbles, waiting for Lexa to contradict her.

She doesn’t. Instead, she nods, looking crestfallen. “My father wants me to go to California immediately,” she explains quietly. “To prepare myself for college. To make friends beforehand. To have prior understanding of what’s its like being alone for the first time. Instead of a college dormitory, he wants me to have my own apartment.” She sighs, dragging her hand against Clarke’s arm. “Let’s talk about this later. Finn’s coming.”

Clarke turns and sure enough, Finn’s walking towards her with the biggest grin on his face. She looks back at Lexa almost immediately but the brunette is already turning back to where Uncle Gustus is still standing, talking animatedly with Costia. She can see the tension in Lexa’s shoulders.

Finn reaches her before Clarke can make another move. He sweeps her up in his arms and spins her around, laughing with joy and glee. Clarke manages a laugh as well but her heart is breaking. She’s in front of the school with her arms around her fiancée and her heart is breaking because her best friend is going to leave.

Finn puts her down and presses his mouth against hers. He’s smiling so hard that it’s infectious and she smiles as well, deepening the kiss.

“I cannot wait to start my life with you, Clarke Griffin,” he murmurs when he pulls away.

“Likewise, Finn Collins,” Clarke whispers. She presses her forehead against his, inhaling his scent. She chases away thoughts of Lexa, because it will hurt too much and she needs to focus on what matters. Like graduation. Like the fact that she’s going to marry somebody who loves her, somebody whom she loves just as equally. She grabs the front of Finn’s shirt and kisses him again.

(She pretends that she’s happy, even though she’s clearly not.)

//

Lexa comes home later and is nearly pounced on by Mercutio. She laughs, not even minding the fact that her dog has his paw prints all over the front of her graduation toga. He’s gotten incredibly big this past few years, almost big enough to trample Lexa whenever she comes into the room.  She fondly rubs his head, her smile disappearing when she realizes that she’s going to leave him here when she moves to California.

“Sorry, buddy,” she murmurs, scratching the back of his ears. Mercutio’s tail wags. “I’ll visit every summer though.”

Her father comes in a minute later, dropping his car keys on the table and stretching his arms behind his back. He looks over to where she’s seated on the floor next to Mercutio, playfully trying to get him to bite her hand and she pretends not to see the worried furrow of his eyebrows or the frown on his mouth.

“Alexandria,” he calls out and her back immediately straightens.

She doesn’t turn around and her father audibly sighs before sitting down next to her. The silence is uncomfortable, filled with too many unsaid things and worried expressions. Lexa knows that her father only wants the best of her but he has the same tendency of being unable to say it out loud.  _Like father, like daughter_ , Lexa thinks to herself. Mercutio is heavily panting in front of them, tongue lolling to the side.

“I don’t think you should be in a hurry to move away,” her father finally breaks the silence and Lexa flinches.

“I know,” she mutters. She thinks back to Clarke’s face, heartbroken and shattered, when Lexa lied about her father wanting her to move to California immediately. The truth is, her father doesn’t want her to leave at all but Lexa got the acceptance letter a week ago and the thought of staying for the summer while watching Clarke be happy with Finn seems too much of a punishment. She doesn’t think she can bear it.

And that’s why her bags are already packed and ready to go. That’s why she can’t stay and pretend that she’s happy—because she’s not. That’s why she’s leaving her hometown and her father and her dog. Because of Clarke Griffin. Because Lexa cannot bear the thought of watching Clarke be happy with someone else, someone who isn’t  _her_.

Lexa sucks in a deep breath. She hasn’t told her father yet, even though she tells him everything about her life. This secret seems entirely too intimate, too simple and yet too complicated; and some part of her wants to tell Clarke before she tells her father. That day, she realizes, might never come at all.

“But I want to try,” Lexa lies easily. Every fiber of her being is screaming because she’s never lied to her father before. She looks into his eyes and she wonders if he can tell that she’s lying or not. She continues, her voice light and careful, “I want to experience new things, make new friends, start new roots in other places.” She sighs. She hates lying. It always feels heavy on her tongue. The truth is, she wants nothing more than to storm into Clarke's house, pin her against the bed, confess every dirty little secret that she ever has of her, and kiss her until they're both barely breathing.

“You could try college dormitories,” her father suggests.

“I don’t want to stuck with a roommate who I may or may not like,” Lexa states quickly.  _That_  part is true. She bites her lower lip and turns away, patting Mercutio’s nose. “Besides, I’m only leaving next week. We still have seven days left before you inevitably say goodbye to your baby girl.”

Her father makes a face and Lexa laughs.

"What about Clarke?" he asks, his smile fading away. 

Lexa is quick to ask, "What about her?"

"She can't possibly be happy about your decision."

"Well, she's happy with Finn." She can't help but let it come off bitterly and her father sighs before wrapping an arm around her shoulder, an affectionate gesture he often uses to give off unconditional support and love. Lexa leans into his embrace, inhaling his musky scent, knowing that she'll miss it once she leaves. Mercutio whines when he realizes that he's being neglected and Lexa lets out a throaty laugh before scratching at his ears again.

Her father hums. "She's happier with you," he says, after a while. 

"I can't make her happy all the time." And it's the truth. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less. She can feel her heart breaking in half at the thought of leaving Clarke Griffin in this small town. She  _should_  be excited, she  _should_  be ecstatic and happy and delirious with joy. But she's not. Clarke will be here and Lexa won't be. There are many things she thought she'd never realize at this age (like realizing that you’ve been in love with you best friend since the dawn of time) and it's daunting that in a matter of a few days, she'll be leaving Clarke behind. Clarke—the one person who's been with her through every memory of her life. And she's not happy—no she's not, she's  _terrified._

"She  _loves_ you," her father says quietly, his eyes huge and sad and Lexa wonders if he  _knows._

She doesn’t respond and her father doesn’t expect her to. They stay seated in the middle of the living room, her dad rubbing small circles against her arm as Lexa continues to ruffle the space between Mercutio’s ears. It feels like a few hours when really, it’s only a few minutes. Then they’re both torn from their reverie when a knock on the door collapses through their thoughts. Her father stands up, grimly looking at Lexa.

“Talk to her,” he says seriously.

“I will,” she mutters but the situation itself is already daunting and she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to _talk_ about. She stands up from her place and Mercutio follows her to the front door. She knows who’s standing on the other side and her stomach flips at the thought of Clarke demanding an explanation for her early departure. Taking a deep, calming breath, she pulls the door open and there’s a flash of gold passing by her. When she turns, Clarke’s already storming the stairs to her room.

Her father appears from the kitchen, holding a sandwich in his hand. He looks at Lexa exasperatedly.

“ _Go_ ,” he says.

Lexa sighs again. Mercutio barks once before running up the stairs. It takes a few moments of quietly planning her death before she follows.

Clarke’s already changed out of her graduation toga. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and she’s wearing a white loose blouse and pink shorts. She looks, as Lexa shuts the door behind her, incredibly and impossibly beautiful. But then Lexa sees the quiet fury in the blonde’s blue eyes and knows that underneath that beauty is a snake waiting to lash out.      

“I know that you’re upset,” Lexa says, raising her hands as if that will somehow Clarke down. Mercutio wags his tail before barking once and nudging his nose against Clarke’s thigh. Clarke doesn’t even look at him.

“ _Upset_?” Clarke’s a volcano when she’s angry and Lexa braces herself for the onslaught. Every time they always argue, Lexa is always left feeling drained and emotionally exhausted, almost as if Clarke has physically dragged her through a day without sleeping or eating. “I am more than upset, Lexa. Fucking hell, I’m _furious_.”

Lexa drops her gaze to the ground the same time Mercutio whimpers.

“I was going to tell you,” Lexa says, her tone pleading, “but it was kind of hard to. Especially since you’ve been busy with Finn—”

“Oh, don’t give me that crap,” Clarke seethes. “You’ve had plenty of time to tell me. Don’t drag Finn into this.”

“What do you expect me to say?” Lexa demands.

“I expect you to give me an explanation!”

Mercutio whimpers again. Clarke finally notices and her shoulder sags as she kneels down next to the dog and pats his head. Lexa relaxes slightly before taking a step forward and sitting down on the edge of her bed. They’re both quiet for several long seconds and Lexa takes the time to quietly drink in her best friend’s features, noting the worry lines and the hard set of her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” Lexa whispers, reaching forward and placing her hand on top of Clarke’s.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Clarke mumbles. She doesn’t look at the brunette but turns her palm up so that their fingers are quietly intertwined. Lexa takes this as a good sign.

“I guess I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

“You’re my best friend; I’m always going to worry about you.” Clarke sighs, bringing their clasped hands closer to her lips. Lexa shivers at the brush of her lips against her skin. “Don’t mistake this for forgiveness. I’m still pissed at you but I want to make this week last.”

“I’m sorry,” Lexa says again, but it doesn’t make things any better.

“You really can’t stay?” Clarke asks, sounding very vulnerable even though her eyes are full of a steely resolve.

Lexa doesn’t respond right away. She has the choice: she can either stay to make this summer last or she can go and leave Clarke to be with Finn. And here is Clarke, her eyes hard and soft at the same time, her mouth trembling slightly, obviously trying to keep control and she’s _begging_ her to stay. Lexa’s heart breaks at the sight of it.

“I can’t,” Lexa murmurs.

“Not even for Mercutio?” Clarke’s other hand falls limp against the dog’s neck and Lexa shakes her head.

“No.”

“Not even for your dad?”

The brunette shakes her head again. “He’s the one who wants me to go,” she lies easily enough. Clarke goes quiet for a few seconds before she sighs and asks; her voice soft and completely vulnerable, “Not even for _me_?”

Lexa’s breath catches in her throat and for a few, short dizzying seconds, she is stunned into silence. Her heart feels like it’s breaking in her chest and she has to blink incoming tears from her eyes before she allows herself to look at Clarke again. The blonde looks like a kicked puppy, blue orbs full of an eternal sadness that pushed at the basis of Lexa’s heart.

“Clarke, I just—” Her tongue suddenly feels entirely too heavy in her mouth and Lexa closes her eyes briefly and squeezes Clarke’s hand.

“You can’t stay,” Clarke’s voice is devoid of emotion and Lexa opens her eyes to see the blonde nodding her head in either shame or acceptance. “I get it. Just please—” She takes a deep, shaking breath and stutters out a small laugh. Lexa tilts her head in confusion, a frown already forming in place when Clarke raises her head to reveal that there are tears in her eyes. “Can I stay here for the night?”

“Of course.” Lexa nods.

Clarke bites her lips, looking down at Mercutio before shyly glancing back at Lexa again. “Can I stay for the whole week?” she asks.

Lexa smiles, ducking her head and nodding once more. “You can do that too.”

//

Clarke wakes up to the smell of pancakes baking in the kitchen. She rises from Lexa’s bed, not entirely surprised to see that the other side is empty. Running her fingers through her hair and fighting off a yawn, she remembers what day it is and feels something heavy drop into the bottom of her stomach. Mercutio is still sleeping by her feet and she gives him a lazy pat against the ears before throwing on one of Lexa’s green sweaters and padding downstairs.

Lexa is reading a list out loud to her father when Clarke appears in the kitchen. Uncle Gustus is currently in the process of putting his fresh pancakes on a plate and humming at everything his daughter is saying. It takes Clarke a while to realize what Lexa is reading.

“Map? Check. College papers? Check. Apartment keys? Check. Passport? Check.” Lexa looks up when Clarke slides into the chair next to her, offering the blonde a soft smile. Clarke returns it tightly. The brunette is already dressed and prepared, curly hair pulled back into a ponytail and wearing a leather jacket across her shoulders and designer jeans. She looks painfully beautiful and Clarke tries to commit the image to memory, because this is the last time she’s going to see Lexa for a very long time.

“Excited?” Clarke asks, tugging at the sleeves of her sweater and trying not to sound awfully sad.

“Very.” Lexa checks off a few more stuff on her list before closing her notebook. “Is it really okay for you to drive me there?”

Clarke swallows. She accepts the coffee Uncle Gustus hands her and toys with the rim of the cup, letting her fingers trace the shape. “Yeah,” she mutters, nodding her head lightly, “It’s totally fine. Plus I get to spend more time with you so it’s a win-win.”

Lexa exhales loudly. “It’s only an hour drive to the airport.”

“Every second counts.” Clarke blinks back the tears stinging the back of her eyes. It’s too early for this. Besides, she’s made peace with it, even though the past week has been spent holding back her sobs and trying to keep her begging to a minimum. Lexa won’t budge. She won’t stay, always insisting that her father demands it. And as much as it _destroys_ Clarke, it pisses her off too. But she’s not going to ruin Lexa’s special day. She is, after all, heading off to college.

(Clarke tries not to think about the fact that she hasn’t even told Lexa about the ring she’s been hiding for the past few days, the ring that binds her to Finn.)

Uncle Gustus takes a seat opposite them and distributes the pancakes. Clarke smiles, because he makes the best pancakes, and she’s really hungry, especially since she and Lexa spent last night going through every picture they’ve had together and laughing at their childhood. Lexa checks her notebook once more before digging into her breakfast, making a soft, satisfied noise at the back of her throat.

“Delicious as always,” she mutters.

“You’re going to miss it when you’re in Cali,” Uncle Gustus says, laughing heartily.

Lexa shoots him a playful glare and Clarke snorts. “See? Even your dad wants you to stay,” she mumbles.

“I always want Lexa to stay,” Lexa’s father says and Clarke feels Lexa tense. Clarke turns to her best friend, opening her mouth to say something (to beg more, probably) when Lexa beats her to it.

“Well, college, remember?” The brunette mutters. She finishes her breakfast quietly while Uncle Gustus and Clarke converse about this big basketball game they’ve been watching for the past week. Clarke tries not to let her gaze fall on Lexa every once a while but it’s kind of hard not to, especially since a timer has been shoved into their friendship. Uncle Gustus must sense her longing because he picks up the plates and says, “Maybe you should go shower, Clarke. Lexa always likes to be early most of the time” before moving to wash the dishes.

Lexa picks up her notebook, mumbling something about checking her things one final time. Clarke knows that she hasn’t missed anything, since she’s watched Lexa spend the past week obsessively going through her things every once again. Clarke follows the brunette up the stairs and watches as Lexa lies back down on the bed to hug Mercutio. The dog perks up, placing his snout against Lexa’s shoulder and whimpering quietly. He must sense her leaving too.

“He’s going to miss you,” Clarke mutters, leaning against the doorway.

“I’m going to miss him too,” Lexa says.

“ _I’m_ going to miss you.”

Lexa doesn’t say anything. She sits up again, looking at Clarke’s feet. Mercutio lets out a low whine.

“I’m going to take a shower now,” Clarke says, since she knows Lexa won’t offer any more words. Grabbing a few of her leftover clothes from the closet, she moves to the bathroom but is stopped when Lexa says, tone hesitant and careful,

“Clarke, you know that I love you, right?”

Clarke turns around, frowning. She takes in the image of Lexa sitting on her bed in the middle of her very bare room and she suddenly feels like crying all over again. Lexa’s suitcases are on the ground, zipped up and ready to go. Most of Lexa’s pictures (usually taped on the wall, for everyone to see) are gone—pictures of her father, of Mercutio when he was just a puppy, of Clarke, of them growing up _together_ —shoved into her bag. Lexa has taken her books as well, but she can’t take all of them so some of her not-so-favorites are still lying on the bookshelf. But it’s mostly empty, like the rest of the space.

Clarke swallows the lump in her throat and blinks back tears.

“Yeah,” she says, “I’m not stupid. I know you love me.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Lexa continues, _finally_ looking at Clarke. The corners of her green eyes are wet. She looks shaken and vulnerable and it destroys whatever self-control Clarke has.

“Then don’t,” Clarke growls. She drops her clothes on the floor and wrings her hands. “If you don’t want to leave me, then _don’t_.”

Lexa’s usual mask of defiance and disinterest fall back into place and she purses her lips as she sniffles. “It’s too late for that,” she mutters.

Clarke has a feeling they’re not talking about college anymore. “Lexa…”

“Look, my bags are already packed and ready to go. I don’t want to leave but I have to. It’s what my dad wants.” She doesn’t look at Clarke when she says the last part. “You should shower already. I have to be at the airport in an hour or two.”

Clarke’s hands shake when she picks up her clothes again. After she slams the door to the bathroom shut behind her, she makes sure to take the longest and coldest shower in her lifetime. She lets the cold seep through every inch of her bones, willing them to shake off this unpleasant and unwanted feeling in her chest. She wants nothing more than to rip off the jealously curdling in her stomach, to squeeze the sadness filling her eyes, to choke out the desperation strangling her lungs. She cannot bear to face the reality that Lexa is actually going to leave her side for the first time in their lives.

She sputters on the water when she remembers the day Lexa visited her after her father had died. She remembers Lexa hugging the life out of her, squeezing so tightly that Clarke could feel all of her broken pieces sticking back together. She remembers Lexa’s mouth against her ear, promising never to leave her.

 _You lied_ , Clarke thinks to herself as she finishes. She wraps a towel around her body, shaking her hair dry and wiping off a few excess droplets. Then she steps out of the bathroom and back into Lexa’s space. She looks up sharply when there’s the sudden movement of a body crashing face first onto the ground and a loud muffled yell piercing through the still air. Mercutio starts barking at once.

“Lexa?” Clarke says, completely puzzled.

Lexa picks herself up from the floor. Mercutio has immediately gone over to nudge his nose against his owner’s face, making the girl shake her head in embarrassment. “I’m fine,” she mutters, rubbing at her arm.

Clarke shakes her head, still baffled. “You’ve seen me naked plenty of times,” she exasperatedly says.

“As kids,” Lexa points out, her cheeks red.

“We’re still kids,” Clarke states. She ducks her head as Lexa mutters a few more incoherent words under her breath before the brunette thankfully leaves the room, Mercutio following in her wake. Clarke changes quietly, often taking the time to walk around while she’s pulling on her blouse, staring at the spaces where the pictures had once been tacked on the wall, brushing her fingertips on the empty table, frowning at the fact that Lexa’s left a copy of _The Great Gatsby_ on the bookshelf.

When she comes downstairs, Lexa and Uncle Gustus are talking in the kitchen, their voices hushed. Clarke stops and even though she knows how rude it is to eavesdrop but her curiosity gets the best of her and she stays hidden around the corner.

“—make sure to call whenever you need anything,” Gustus is saying, his voice low and barely coherent. But Clarke manages to catch a few words.

“I will,” Lexa says.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

“Yes, dad.” Clarke can imagine Lexa rolling her eyes and has to bite back a smile.

“And have you talked to Clarke yet?”

There’s silence and Clarke furrows her eyebrows. Talk to her about _what_? She licks her lips and leans forward, trying to catch whatever Lexa’s response is. All she hears is a frustrated sigh and Lexa tapping her fingers against the surface of the counter. She doesn’t say anything, which completely baffles Clarke.

“Lexa,” Gustus says, “at least talk in the car, okay?”

“Fine.” There are light footsteps on the wooden floor and Clarke quickly dashes back up the stairs. She stops at the top step and pretends to be staring at a picture she’s always passed through the years but has never given the time to look at properly. It’s a photo of Gustus holding a newly born Lexa, with a huge smile on his face. He looks deliriously happy and content.

Lexa breaks off her thoughts by saying, “Hey.” She’s standing at the bottom of the stairs with her hands shoved to her back pockets, watching her. Clarke tears her gaze away from the photo.

“Hi,” Clarke says in response, trying to smile. It doesn’t work. “Ready to go?”

Lexa nods and Clarke tries to push down the inevitable feeling that she is making a very huge mistake. But she helps Lexa drag her suitcases downstairs anyways, shoves the bags into the trunk of the car, and then watches at the side when Gustus and Mercutio all walk up to say their goodbyes. Uncle Gustus wraps his big arms around Lexa and presses his cheek against her hair, looking sad and small, even for his height. Mercutio wags his tail and barks as loud as he can, his voice screechy. It takes Lexa a while to pull away and when she does, Clarke can see her shoulders shaking. Even though she might not show it, Clarke knows that this is hard for her too.

“May we meet again,” Clarke hears Gustus saying and Lexa smiles, before repeating the sentiment. Then Lexa bends down to hug Mercutio and the dog laps at her face, whimpering quietly.

There are tears in Clarke’s eyes but she wipes them off with the palm of her hand, taking a deep, shuddering breath. She tries to focuses on all of the good things that are happening. Like the fact that Lexa is going to a good college or the fact that Finn’s being supportive of her nonstop but they don’t matter. They don’t, because at the end of the day—the truth remains. Lexa will be gone.

Clarke is so focused on the ground that she doesn’t see Lexa walking towards her. She only notices when the brunette takes her hand and squeezes it tight.

“Are you okay?” Lexa asks.

Clarke looks up, blinking away the tears. Lexa smiles and it’s a sad, small smile, one that pulls at the strings in Clarke’s heart.

“Let’s just go,” Clarke murmurs.

Lexa nods and they get into the car and Clarke starts the ignition. There is silence and Clarke watches from the corner of her eye as Lexa waves one last goodbye to her father and Mercutio. The dog lets out a long, loud howl and Lexa lets out a watery laugh, tears sparkling in her eyes. Uncle Gustus shoves his hands into his pockets and nods, but he too looks like a kicked puppy.

Clarke takes a deep breath and glances over at her best friend, who is still staring at her house. She wants nothing more than to say “Please don’t leave” or “I _love_ you, I’m _in love_ with you”but it won’t change anything. So she keeps her mouth shut, because there is nothing left for her to say. Nothing that matters anymore.

//

Lexa wonders if she should say it. It’d be easy and hard at the same time. To just blurt it out in the middle of nowhere, with Clarke staring at the road in front of them, the wind in her clear, blue eyes. She could say it now and Clarke will either reject her or pretend that this never happened, the same way she did when they kissed at that bar. It’d be so easy then. Lexa could just say, “I’m in love with you” and things will never be the same again.

But—she doesn’t. If there is one thing Lexa is absolutely positive of, it’s that she cannot bear to lose Clarke. So she bites her lower lip and keeps her mouth shut. Clarke has the radio turned off and she wonders if she could just reach out and turn it on, in hopes of diffusing this awkward tension but Clarke’s hand is tightly clenched on the wheel and she knows that something is very wrong.

“What did Costia say to you?” Clarke suddenly asks.

Lexa’s knee jerks. “What?” she says, bewildered. She’s thought of Costia, of course, but she’s thought of Clarke a lot more.

Clarke doesn’t look at her. “At graduation,” she says, “I saw her talking to your dad.”

“Costia talks to a lot of people,” Lexa says dismissively. She catches sight of Clarke clenching her other hand and sighs, knowing how much Clarke _hates_ it when Lexa doesn’t talk. So she reaches forward, squeezes the blonde’s knee and says, “She just wanted to say her goodbyes. Since she’s moving to New Zealand at the end of the summer and all. Dad always liked her.”

“That’s not what I asked—”

“I know.” Lexa lets out another deep breath and looks out the window, admiring the scenery passing by. Her dad had told her to talk to Clarke on the way to the airport and she knows that she should but her tongue feels too heavy and her thoughts are crashing into each other and she just can’t think straight. The distraction of Costia, however, is enough. “After she talked to my father, I asked her to walk with me.” She thinks back to that day, feeling her heart clench when she remembers Clarke leaning forward to kiss Finn.

“What did you say?” Clarke asked, keeping her eyes on the road.

“I told her that I was sorry for everything,” Lexa continues, jaw clenching. She thinks back to how beautiful Costia had looked, with the flowers in her graduation cap and her bright hazel eyes. “And luckily enough, she forgave me. She told me that she didn’t have the right to be angry with me and that even though our time was really short; she loved me all the same. I—I told her that I loved her too. And she smiled and I could tell she was about to cry because her nose scrunched and her eyes started to shine. She said, ‘Guess that’s just not enough, huh?’ I know I broke her heart. I could hear it breaking.”

Lexa licks her lips. The pain of breaking up with Costia has faded to a dull throb but it’s still there, wringing her out and leaving her gasping in times where everything is too much, too fast. And only the thought of Clarke can calm her. She broke up with Costia because she found out she was in love with Clarke and she had no intentions of stringing Costia along.

“You did the right thing,” Clarke says out of the blue.

Lexa scoffs. “Right.”

“ _Lexa_.” Clarke glances at her, frowning. “You’re both going to be on the other side of the world. You would’ve saved yourself a lot of trouble, okay? Not to mention heartache too.”

“I still broke her heart.”

“I’m going to slap you across the face if you don’t shut up, I swear.” Clarke reaches into her pocket and pulls out her phone. She snaps a quick picture of Lexa looking mournfully into the distance and then stops the car in the middle of the road.

“What are you—?” Lexa begins.

“I told you to shut up, Lex.”

“Seriously? You’re going to update your Instagram in the middle of the highway?”

“I will slap you, I swear.” Clarke’s half-smiling now and it’s nice to see her like this, especially since they’ve gone through the week arguing about Lexa leaving and Clarke staying. They’ve spent the past seven days trying to make everything last; going to movies, staying in and watching more movies, staring at forgotten photos, baking, biking along the highway, eating ice cream in the middle of the night, crying, comforting each other in the middle of the night, screaming for the other to understand until their voices were sore, laughing at puns on Tumblr and then sobbing at the abruptness of it all. They were a mess and it’s been one hell of a week but Lexa knows that she’ll remember every part of it.

Finally, Clarke raises her head and grins, showing Lexa the post. It has all the right filters and the caption underneath reads: **Farewell to my best girl @lexawoods**. Lexa smiles at the usage of being _Clarke’s_ best girl but there’s a tight clench in her chest and all of a sudden, she can’t breathe.

“We’ll always be best friends, right?” Clarke asks quietly.

Lexa inhales sharply and then nods. “Yeah,” she says, smiling softly, “Always.” Her eyebrows knit together at the sadness in Clarke’s features. “But you’re still going to Stanford, right? Once you get your letter?”

Clarke nods. “I’ll move in with you,” she says and laughs when Lexa does.

“Good. Just checking.”

(Some part of Lexa—a small, miniature part that seems intent on destroying her hope—doesn’t believe her best friend.)

//

The airport is mostly empty. The only people who seem to be around are a bunch of guys on business trips, eyeing their phone or their flight schedule. Clarke spots a couple sitting on the bench and pointing at all the places they’re going to visit on a large map, laughing loudly and then kissing each other on the lips. Clarke is hit with the image of her and Lexa doing the same thing and shakes her head, because the impossibility of that fantasy coming true remains _just_ that. An impossibility. A fantasy.

Clarke shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans as she follows Lexa into the departure longue. Again, it is mostly empty. Except for a family of three patiently waiting by the corner. The parents are talking to each other in hushed tones while the little daughter is busy drawing on a sketchpad. She looks a bit like Lexa, once Clarke thinks about it. The girl has the same, curly hair and the same crease between the eyebrows.

 _I miss her already_ , Clarke thinks to herself, glancing over at Lexa, who has taken as seat next to the large window overlooking the runway. _She’s still here and I miss her_ _already_.

Lexa is checking her list for the hundredth time again and Clarke sighs before taking a seat next to her.

“Scared?” Clarke asks.

“A little,” Lexa admits, glancing up from her notebook. She offers Clarke a small smile. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

“I know.”

“And we’ll Skype every night.”

“I know.”

“And I love you.”

Clarke’s heart quickens in its pace but she nods before saying, “I know.” She turns her head away, completely missing the way Lexa’s face falls. Her eyes fall on the family again and she sighs inwardly, because the last time she was completely happy with her mother was before her father died. And even until now, it still hurts to think about it. Then the voice on the intercom starts calling for Lexa’s flight and panic seizes Clarke’s heart.

“Lexa, I—” She stands up, turns when Lexa follows her lead.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Lexa mutters, looking down at her feet.

Clarke is suddenly hit with an overwhelming wave of sadness and before she knows it, there are tears streaming down her cheeks. “I guess it is,” she chokes out. Lexa looks up at her, green eyes wide and desperate and Clarke wants nothing more than to reach forward and kiss her, wants nothing more than to whisper _I love you, I love you, please don’t leave me_ between harried gasps for breath, wants nothing more than for Lexa to stay and be with her for the rest of their lives.

“Wait, I have to show you something,” Clarke says instead, reaching into her bag and pulling out the plush teddy bear she and Lexa bought on her birthday. The words on the teddy’s shirt are scrawled and messy, blotched ink on the fabric but it can still be read and Clarke stares at it ( _I love you Lexa Woods)_ for a few seconds before handing it to Lexa.

“You’re giving this to me?” Lexa asks, sounding shaken.

Clarke shrugs. “Something to remember me by,” she quietly says.

Lexa doesn’t move for several seconds but then, before Clarke can say something else, she’s throwing her backpack to her front and opening the zipper and pulling out her own teddy bear. She shoves it into Clarke’s hand and Clarke’s laugh disappears in her throat as she too reads the letters written on the white shirt of the stuffed animal: _I love you Clarke Griffin_.

“Clarke, I—” Lexa looks frustrated with herself, her nostrils flaring as she glares at the ground beneath her feet. “I’m sorry and I’m—”

The voice at the intercom calls for Lexa’s flight again and Clarke shakes her head before flinging her arms around the other girl, her hands desperately clutching at the back of Lexa’s shirt. Lexa wraps her arms around Clarke’s waist and buries her face against her shoulder and they stay intertwined like that for greedy, desperate seconds. Clarke takes this time to _try_ and remember every part of the girl standing before her. She inhales Lexa’s scent, tugs at Lexa’s curly hair, presses her body close to Lexa’s because this _can’t_ be the last time where they see each other. No. It _can’t_ be.

Lexa inhales shakily as she pulls away but Clarke keeps her arms around the brunette’s neck and their faces are too close for comfort and Clarke licks her lips, _because this is her chance_. She could lean forward and kiss her best friend and it could change everything or it could change nothing. Or she could just shake her head and pretend that her heart isn’t breaking in the worst ways possible.

Before she can make her choice, Lexa breaks free from her embrace, her jaw clenching. She looks as if she’s trying hard not to cry.

“I’ll see you when the summer is over,” Lexa says, nodding her head as if she’s trying to convince herself. Clarke wonders if she knows that they won’t be seeing each other _at all_.

“Keep in touch,” Clarke says.

Lexa’s mouth curls into a half-smile. “Goodbye, Clarke,” she says, “May we meet again.”

“May we meet again, Lexa,” Clarke returns and she watches, with her heart breaking, as Lexa walks away.

//

Later, when she opens the door to an empty apartment in an entirely foreign place, Lexa wants nothing more than to fling her bags outside the window and scream her throat out.

//

That night, Clarke waits and waits for the call and when it doesn’t come, she drags her ass out of bed and punches the mirror in the bathroom, trying hard not to cry when she sees the blood.

//

Lexa barely gets anything done for the following days. She sleeps, showers, eats, reads a few books and watches movies before collapsing back on the bed. She spends countless hours in her pajamas, staring at the teddy bear Clarke gave her and wishing for Mercutio back. Plenty of times, her thumb hovers over Clarke’s name on her contacts but she never calls or texts. Her father, however, is a different story. She’s left him with a few messages but hasn’t had the guts to have a real conversation yet. She fears that she’ll break down once she hears his voice.

Her suitcases haven’t been unpacked yet and the apartment is dreadfully empty. Her father had decorated the place with the necessities once before she came here but asides from a warm bed and an endless stream of movies saved on the TV, Lexa feels as if she’s living in a stranger’s house. It’s small and comfortable but it’s not home.

She has a neighbor whom she’s been passing with for the past few days. A tall woman with high cheekbones and light brown hair. They’ve nodded to each other plenty of times and Lexa can’t help but let her eyes stray during these moments, taking in the defined beauty of the other woman. It takes her another week to find out that her neighbor’s name is Anya.

She’s about a month in California and her suitcases are still tucked in, she hasn’t visited her campus yet and her growing list of TV shows and movies just keep growing. Worse, she hasn’t gotten around to talking to her father and Clarke, which is really bad, if the endless stream of voicemails is anything to go by. This is completely unlike her—this is the very opposite of Lexa Woods actually and if she had the right state of mind, she would’ve done something about it already. But she’s not in the right state of mind. She’s depressed, homesick, and cranky and with every minute that’s ticking past on the clock, the severity of her emotions deepens.

The situation only gets better when there’s a knock on the door one day and Lexa raises her bed-ridden head from the pillow. She’s drooled in her sleep again—which would usually gross her out—but at the moment, she doesn’t care. Wiping the heel of her palm against her mouth, she stumbles from her bed and walks over to the front door, careless of the fact that she looks horrendous. It’s probably just the mailman, or a kindly neighbor asking for a cup of sugar.

She opens the door and raises her eyebrows in surprise when she realizes that Anya is standing in front of her, her light brown hair tied in a loose braid while wearing casual clothes. She still looks stunning and Lexa lets her eyes do a once-over before snapping up to meet the woman’s gaze.

“Hello,” she says coolly.

Anya nods. “You must be Lexa,” she starts, stretching out a hand, “I’m Anya.”

“I know.” Lexa says. She doesn’t accept the handshake, just raises one eyebrow at it in defiance. The other woman withdraws quickly, a small smile quirking up her lips.

“Other than asking how you know my name, I’m just going to be a neighborly person and formally welcome you to California,” Anya says. She has a certain drawl to the way she says her words and Lexa finds it oddly attractive.

“I’ve been here a month,” Lexa says carefully, leaning against the doorway and crossing her arms, “Why choose to be neighborly now? And how do you know I’m not from here?”

“You ask too many questions,” Anya states. She tilts her head to the side. “I’ll answer them, if you’ll have a drink with me tonight.”

Of all the things that her neighbor would say, Lexa was definitely not expecting that. She blinks once, her shoulders tightening immediately at the thought. She hates the fact that the first image that comes to mind is of Clarke kissing her during her 18th birthday and she briefly wonders if she’ll ever get over her anytime soon.

Anya must sense her hesitation because she takes a step back, looking away quickly. “It’s okay if you don’t want to—” she starts to say.

“It’s not that,” Lexa mutters, forcing herself to relax. “It’s okay, seriously. I’ll go.”

Anya looks at her face carefully. “Are you sure?” she asks.

Lexa thinks of Clarke and then nods. “I’m sure,” she answers and for once, her smile is not forced.

//

Clarke needs to buy a new phone.

After waiting for _weeks_ and _weeks_ for the phone call or the text message from Lexa (one that inevitably never comes) she smashes her phone against the wall when Octavia comes over one day and innocently asks if Lexa has called yet. A mixture of emotions washes over her—desperation, sadness, anger, hate, love—and a second later; she’s grabbing her phone from the bedside table and flinging it across the room. The battery falls out and the screen cracks. Octavia immediately grabs her arm and whirls her around.

“Calm down, blondie,” the other girl says, fierce.

“She never called me,” Clarke whispers in a broken tone.

“You mean Lexa?” Something akin to understanding flashes across Octavia’s face and she sympathetically rubs Clarke’s shoulder, frowning, “Hey, I’m sorry I asked. I—I had no idea, okay?”

Clarke sniffs. There are tear tracks in her eyes and she chastises herself for losing control. Looking away from Octavia’s heavy gaze, she picks up the broken remains of her phone and grunts when she sees that the screen has partially caved in. It’s useless now. She throws it to one corner of the room and walks over to the bed.

“Maybe she’s been busy?” Octavia suggests, following after her.

Clarke snorts. “ _Please_. This is the girl who would rather go here in the middle of the night than leave me alone to fend off monsters,” she mumbles. She rolls her eyes when Octavia gives her a look. “We were _eight.”_

Octavia chuckles. “God, she is so whipped for you.”

Clarke shakes her head. Lexa is not whipped. Lexa is just a really good _friend_ and even though the fact hurts more than she likes to admit, she has to accept it. Besides, there is no way Lexa would ever return her feelings.

“She’s just a good friend,” she voices this out to Octavia.

“Right, and Lincoln is gay,” the other girl deadpans.

“O, she practically broke up with Costia for _college_ ,” Clarke seethes, “I don’t think she has a single romantic bone in her body.” She sighs, tucks her legs underneath her as Octavia opens her mouth to contradict her words. Clarke doesn’t let her finish, however, “Sure, they’ve been together for like, two years or something, and I’m pretty sure that Lexa loved her but—you don’t break up with the person you’re in love with just because of distance.”

Octavia is silent for several long seconds while Clarke ponders the possibility of Lexa being incapable of love. She’s pissed, angry and heartbroken so maybe she’s saying things that _aren’t_ true even in the slightest but Lexa hasn’t called in forever, hasn’t even had the decency to send a text message and—God, why is Clarke beating herself up for this? It’s Lexa’s loss.

“She doesn’t love me _that_ way,” she whispers.

“No, she doesn’t,” Octavia agrees and Clarke scoffs. Then Octavia rubs the back of her neck and smiles. “She loves you _more_.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything and Octavia continues, undeterred and determined, “Clarke, you and I have been friends for _years_ now and I know that I’m like, your best friend and all, but Lexa tops that title and I can see why. She’d do anything for you, she _loves_ you and I am sick and tired of seeing you not see it that way.”

Something inside Clarke’s chest tightens as she turns to the other girl, eyes furrowed and mouth slightly open, “What are you talking about?”

Octavia pointedly rolls her eyes and groans. She punches Clarke against the arm and says, with a passion that leaves no stone unturned, “Do I seriously have to spell it out for you? Lexa is _in love_ with you and I’m not saying it in the _friend_ way—I’m saying it in the same way I’m in love with Lincoln Grounds, for God’s sake!”

The words are absurd and completely nonsensical, so that’s the main reason why Clarke burst out laughing. She laughs and laughs, until it comes to the point that she no longer has an idea why she’s laughing in the first place. Octavia is looking at her like she’s lost her mind and maybe she has, maybe she hasn’t— _she doesn’t know_. As soon as she stops laughing however, reality slaps her across the face. Octavia might not have a clue about Lexa’s feelings but Clarke knows _hers_ —and she knows, God, she knows that even though she loves Finn, Lexa Woods will always be the one in her heart. When she realizes this, the tears sting the back of her eyes and she sniffs again. She missed her chance the minute Lexa got on that plane.

“Even if you’re right,” Clarke says, voice shaking, “there’s nothing I can do about it. Finn already asked me to marry him and Lexa’s on the other side of the world and—”

“Wait, _back up_.” Octavia seizes Clarke’s arm and shakes her head. “Did you just say that Finn asked you to marry him?”

“Shit. Uh, yeah. I guess I did,” Clarke admits, her face heating up. No use hiding it now.

Octavia’s eyes look like they’re going to pop out from their sockets. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she demands. “What the hell did you say?”

Clarke’s head throbs as she says, “I already said yes” through gritted teeth. Octavia’s mouth drops and for once, she seems speechless. There are plenty of things to describe Octavia Blake but speechless isn’t one of them. And Clarke knows that she has every right to be.

“Are you insane?” Octavia demands. “You’re not even in college yet!”

“I’m _not_ going to college,” Clarke snaps and the truth seems to be spilling out of her in waves, because she continues, “Lexa wants me to go to Stanford with her but I never sent the application letter. Mom wants me to go to some stupid, prestigious Med school but I _can’t_ because hospitals remind me of my father and I don’t want to spend another minute inside one. Finn asked me to marry him during the Homecoming Dance and I said yes, because I thought—God, I thought that Lexa loved Costia so much that she’d _never_ love me back.”

There are hot, angry tears spilling from her eyes and her chest feels so twisted that it’s a miracle she can still breathe properly. Octavia’s fingers are clutching at her arm, hard enough to leave marks but Clarke isn’t thinking about any of _that_. She’s thinking of all the mistakes she’s made and how she might have to spend the rest of her life making up for them.

Octavia’s jaw tightens. “Clarke…” she starts to say, shock and pity written all over her face.

“I _know_ I fucked up,” Clarke relentlessly continues, “I fucked it all up and I can’t take any of it back.”

“Yes, you can,” Octavia seethes, “Why are you still with Finn, if you don’t love him the way you love Lexa?”

“Because I _can’t_ break his heart,” Clarke answers bitingly, “I can’t do that to him, especially since he nearly destroyed his friendship with Raven to be with me. He’s done so much for me and even now, he’s already looking for jobs so that we can move in together and start our lives. I can’t leave him. He’ll hate me forever.”

“If you don’t leave him, then you’ll hate _yourself_ ,” Octavia tells her.

“Lexa might love me,” Clarke says, after a moment or two, “but she doesn’t love me enough to stay. I’m with Finn because he _stayed_ and that’s better than nothing.”

//

“Where are you from?” Anya asks, sliding a shot of whiskey towards Lexa. The other woman looks undeniably pretty at the moment, hair pulled back from the sharp angles of her face, even sharper eyes glinting with mischief. She tips her glass against her lips with the kind of sexiness that sends an ache through Lexa’s navel.

Lexa focuses her attention on the surface of the table, trying to still her rapidly beating heart.

“I’m from nowhere,” she says. She doesn’t want to talk about her hometown or her family, which obviously extends to Clarke so she settles to change the topic. “What about you? Do you usually knock on your neighbor’s day and invite them for a drink?”

“Only the pretty ones.”

Lexa grins. _Smooth_ , she thinks to herself. She takes a quick sip of her whiskey and makes a face at the taste, letting out a guttural groan when it hits the back of her throat. Anya is watching her carefully across the table so she looks around the bar, where most of the customers are either guys looking mournfully at their tall glasses or more guys just sharing a drink. There are even fewer ladies around, but Lexa can spot a few of them huddled in corners with their boyfriends.

“Getting bored of me already?” Anya asks, and Lexa snaps her gaze towards her again.

“No, sorry,” she mutters, “I—uh, I just remembered something.” Clarke’s eighteenth birthday—Clarke’s bright, blue eyes; Clarke’s heavy, intoxicating breathing; Clarke’s warm mouth against her own. She roughly shakes her head and clenches her fist around the glass.

Anya notices. “Sounds like an ex,” she remarks.

“She wasn’t,” Lexa grimly says, too lost in her own thoughts to realize that Anya’s grin has widened at the pronoun, “Well, not technically. We didn’t date. We just—we were just something, that’s all.”

“She doesn’t sound like a _something_.” Anya leans in, still grinning. “Sounds more like an _everything_.”

Lexa shakes her head and takes another swing at the whiskey. The liquid burns through her throat like a river of lava and she coughs once or twice before her lungs subside.

“Her name’s Clarke,” Lexa states, feeling the sting of her tears behind her eyes. She looks away from Anya’s intuitive gaze, bottom lip curling, “And we’re not here to talk about her. We’re here so that you can chat my ear off about how your day at work was or how my day at work was, which I don’t have yet, because I’m in college attending Stanford. I’m here because I wanted to explore the campus, and also because I’m in the debate team, the soccer team, and also an RA. But I’ve been stuck at the apartment for a month now because I can’t bear to talk to my dad on the phone and I can’t even send a text message to my best friend. How was _your_ day?”

Anya is still smiling, which should infuriate Lexa but for some reason, it doesn’t. She’s been told that she hates everybody the minute she meets them, with the exclusion of Clarke, Costia and Lincoln and it seems that Anya has been added to that list as well.

She watches at the other woman orders for more shots and raises her eyebrows when Anya slides in another glass towards her.

“Tell me more,” she says.

Surprisingly enough, Lexa does.

//

Clarke is in the process of finishing a self-portrait when her mom suddenly bursts in through the doorway, eyes wild and angry, mouth twisted into a cruel scowl. Clarke swivels around in her chair, frowning as she tucks in a pencil behind her ear.

“Uh, you can come right in?” she says, trying not to sound too baffled.

“We need to talk,” Abby says, her arms crossed as she sizes up her daughter. Five years ago, her stress lines weren’t noticeable and she smiled a lot, often even, but with the death of her husband and her daughter’s party antics coming to a boiling point, she looks well beyond her years.

The fact settles guiltily at the pit of Clarke’s stomach and she bites her lower lip as Abby continues, “You and I both agreed on a college. Stanford Medical School, remember? But after having not being informed of an acceptance letter for weeks now, I decided to have a recent chat with the college.” Clarke’s heart skips a beat and a feeling of dread slams its way into her bones. She feels like she’s going to puke. Her ears are ringing slightly.

Abby’s gaze hardens when she spits out the next words, “And they told me that no student of Clarke Griffin has ever sent an application letter. I asked them to check again but there are no records under your name. Care to explain that?”

“Mom, I—” Clarke swallows painfully. Her mouth is dry.

“When were you ever going to tell me?” Abby demands, tone biting and harsh. “Or were you ever going to tell me? Clarke, what happened? What made you decide not to go? Is this some sort of teenage rebellion phase that you’ve gotten yourself into—”

“It’s not _that_ ,” Clarke seethes but her fire is wasted because she doesn’t have an answer.

“Then why did you do this?” Abby sounds choked, heartbroken even and it shouldn’t hurt—it _shouldn’t_ because Clarke has spent the last years hating everything her mother did and said, for _moving on_ when she herself couldn’t do it—but the pain in her chest doesn’t loosen even in the slightest when she realizes that her mother is crying. “Why would you throw away a future you so desperately prepared for?”

“Because I don’t _want_ it anymore!” Clarke yells out of pent-up frustration. Emotions she has so carefully pushed down in the past years have finally reached a boiling point and she feels like she’s sixteen all over again, angry, lost and full of grief that seems unyielding. Abby looks as if she’s been slapped in the face but Clarke doesn’t care—all she can feel right now is the _pain_ of losing her beloved father. “The last time I wanted to go to college was when Dad was alive! And now that he’s gone, I can’t bear to walk inside a hospital or go to a class where the professors talk about saving someone’s life! Because what’s the goddamn point? He’s gone and he’s not coming back and the thought just makes me _sick_.”

“He would’ve wanted this for _you_ ,” Abby tells her fiercely. Her mouth is tense.

“You don’t know what he wanted,” Clarke spits, tears streaming down her cheeks as she tries to take even breaths, “You _don’t_ , and I know because he died trying to get to _you_. If you hadn’t asked for his help that night, he wouldn’t have gotten hit with that stupid truck!”

“Clarke—”

“He died because of _you_ ,” Clarke yells, “and here you are, moving on with Kane of all people. God, what is _wrong_ with you?”

“Don’t try to pin all of this on me,” Abby snaps, “We are talking about your future and not about what happened to your father. That was an accident. You and I both know that—”

“ _My_ future?” Clarke repeats. She scoffs and reaches up to wipe away the tears from her eyes, “I just blew my future. I didn’t send my application letter. I don’t want to go to college. There’s nothing left.”

“You can’t say that,” Abby hisses. “I’m sure they can make an exception—”

“I don’t _want_ it anymore,” Clarke angrily says through gritted teeth. She clenches her hands into fists and resists the urge to try and punch something. Her mother is looking at her as if she doesn’t recognize the person standing there.

They don’t say anything for the next few minutes. Clarke’s eyes are burning with her tears and her lungs feel as if they’ve been filled with acid. Everything in her body _aches_ —and it’s not even a good, nostalgic ache—no, this is the kind of ache that makes you want to pull out your insides and try to find the reason why you’re feeling this way in the first place.

Finally, Abby says, with a hint of resignation, “And what about Lexa?”

That shocks Clarke long enough for Abby to grab hold onto this last piece of hope. “She’s waiting for you,” her mother says, “She’s been waiting an awful long time, don’t you think?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clarke tries to swallow the lump in her throat but ends up choking on it.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Abby murmurs, sounding defeated, “but I think you should tell her.”

This feels like a trap, so Clarke narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. “That’s it?” she asks snidely. “A few screaming matches and you’re suddenly okay with me not going to college?”

“I never said I was okay about your decision,” Abby says, looking tired and withdrawn, “and this isn’t finished. We’ll talk in the morning. Now go tell Lexa. I don’t think she’ll handle it too well.”

//

It takes a few more weeks but Anya finally catches Lexa off guard when they head back to their apartment after a night of heavy drinking. While in the middle of climbing the stairs, the older woman reaches for Lexa’s waist and kisses her hungrily, desperately even and Lexa’s drunk enough that she lets her.

It’s not everything she wants—far from it, actually—but it dulls the pain of losing Clarke so it’s enough.

//

Even though she promised she would, Clarke never tells Lexa about not going to college.

Instead, she ignores her mother and goes apartment hunting with Finn, who holds her close and laughs way too hard at her half-assed jokes. He tells her that he’s been in touch with a guy who can get her a job and that by next week, he’ll be working his ass off too. He tells her that they’ll be living their dream soon.

It’s not _their_ dream, not really, but Clarke loves him too much to point out that it’s been _his_ dream all along.

//

Lexa likes Anya. She doesn’t love her though. Not really, not the way she used to love Costia and the way she’ll always love Clarke. But Anya’s a good fuck and she’s been helping her a lot for the past few months. Already, Lexa’s had a tour of her campus and has all of her classes mapped out and ready to go. Everything has been dealt with accordingly, especially since she’s joined so many clubs on a whim. Her apartment is cleaned up and she’s already managed to have a full conversation with her dad on the phone, mouth spewing out apologies and excuses and _I’m so sorry I never called._

Every time she calls her father though, she cannot help but want to ask about Clarke. They don’t talk about her but Lexa knows that the subject is just underneath the surface, ready to be pulled out and examined carefully. She doesn’t know if she can bear it but her father sighs, murmurs “I really miss you” and the pain is worth enduring.

A week before classes start, Lexa stares at Clarke’s contact on her phone with a mixture of trepidation and fear. It’s been _months_ since they’ve last spoken to each other and Lexa’s last memory is of Clarke standing at the airport lobby, arms wrapped around her torso, holding the teddy bear with the words _I love you Clarke Griffin_ written all over it. Lexa’s own teddy bear is lying at the bottom of her suitcase, forgotten and disregarded and Lexa hates herself for being such a coward when faced with her feelings.

She gets up from the couch and walks over to the said suitcase, where the only thing left inside is the teddy bear and a few shirts. She pulls out the stuffed animal and runs a hand against the words, feeling a burning ache in her chest when she remembers Clarke’s 18th birthday all over again. Tears sting the back of her eyes and she lets out a shaky breath before dropping the teddy bear and pressing her palms against where the water has run across her cheeks. She stays like that for a few minutes before she looks back at her phone, at Clarke’s smiling, radiant face, at the beautiful blue in her eyes. And in those few moments, she makes a decision.

She presses the call button.

It rings for exactly three times before the operator says: “ _We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again._ ”

There’s a heavy weight in Lexa’s chest. She tries again but the message is still the same. She has lost Clarke’s phone number and hasn’t even realized it for the past few months.

“Jesus,” she mutters under her breath, feeling as if the weight of the world has simultaneously crashed into her shoulders. She throws the phone into the bed and slams her fist against the wall; the quick, momentary pain stunning her for a few short seconds. She tries to shake off the impending tears in her eyes but it’s not working and soon enough, she’s already started crying again.

“ _Stupid_ ,” she scolds herself angrily, the word harsh and biting in her own ears. “You _stupid_ girl.”

Not for the first time, she wonders why she ever let Clarke go in the first place.

//

Clarke gets a job at a coffee shop the same time classes start at Stanford. (Finn promises that the job at the tattoo shop is still reachable, but not at the moment.) She wakes up on that said day feeling sorry for herself, wanting nothing more than to be heading off to college rather than pulling an apron around her waist. But she’s made her choice and she’s going to have to live with it for the rest of her life.

(She doesn’t even have to wonder if she’s made the wrong decision or not; she _knows_ that she did.)

The coffee shop is called _Mount Café_ , which she thinks is stupid, but it’s a popular place and the pay is manageable. Raven and Octavia worked here two summers ago, when they were in dire need of money to pay off some debts, and they had a good time. Hopefully, Clarke will have the same experience.

She walks in on her first day with her hair tied in a bun and a wide smile plastered on her face. Her boss is a guy named Sinchel and he is awfully patient and friendly, teaching her what to do and how to mix coffees and etc. She’ll be working with two other people, a girl named Monroe and a boy named Sterling. They’re younger than she is but are more experienced.

Monroe puts her on cashier duty and Clarke obliges, tapping her fingers against the surface of the counter as she waits for the first customer of the day.

She checks her new phone for any messages from Finn when the bell at the door rings and somebody walks in.

“Hi, welcome to _Mount Café_ , what can we do—” The words are rightfully wretched from her mouth when she realizes exactly who she is facing.

“ _Clarke_?” Costia takes off the sunglasses she’s wearing and cheekily grins. Her hair has gotten shorter and her eyes have more light to them. She still wears her trademark floral dresses and Clarke can’t help but smile—because apparently, some things never change.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” Costia continues, approaching the counter and setting her camera on the counter.

“My first day,” Clarke admits. She gestures to the camera. “I thought you were off to New Zealand.”

“I was,” Costia answers, still smiling, “but I got homesick. Decided to head back here and… _familiarize_ myself with the old town that I grew up in. Photography is interesting, by the way. You get to look at things through different lenses and realize that things have never been the same.”

“Sounds amazing,” Clarke says, sounding wistful even to her own ears.

Costia nods. “What are you majoring in?”

Clarke tries not to let it show how much she _hates_ being asked that question. Instead, she ducks her head and fiddles with the cupcake stand, biting her lower lip as she tries to find the words.

“I’m not focusing on college at the moment,” she answers, with a hint of bitterness in her tone.  

Costia seems surprised. “Oh,” she says, titling her head to the side, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just—Lexa was adamant about the two of you going to college together.”

“Lexa was adamant about a lot of things,” Clarke mutters, almost to herself but Costia hears her anyway.

“She was, wasn’t she?” Costia whispers. Then she leans back and blinks rapidly, almost as if the thought of her ex-girlfriend from high school still pains her. “Anyway, are we done reminiscing the past? Because I would really like a cup of cappuccino.”

Clarke grins. “Sure,” she says and she writes Costia’s name on the cup and hands it to Monroe for the drink to be made. When she turns back to the counter, the other girl is still standing there with her gaze focused on the necklace around Clarke’s neck, the one with Finn’s ring hanging against her skin.

“Did Lexa ever tell you?” Costia asks, her stare flickering back to meet Clarke’s eyes.

Clarke bristles. “Tell me what?” she questions, a hint of suspicion rising in her tone. During their last year of high school, Lexa hasn’t told her everything that had gone down in her life so Clarke doesn’t really know what Costia is talking about.

Costia nods, almost to herself. “I thought so,” she mumbles. Monroe comes around to hand her the cup and while Costia is rummaging her purse for the payment, Clarke remembers that she has a working mouth and says,

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s none of my business.” Costia waves off the question and sips her drink. “By the way, how are you and Finn? I see that you’re still going strong.” She eyes the ring again and Clarke resists the urge to rip it off from her neck.

Instead, she forces a smile and clenches her fist. “We’re okay.”

She tries to tell herself that Costia doesn’t mean to pry, that she’s just making friendly conversation, and that she just came back to this town to revisit old, fond memories. But then she sees the quiet determination in the other girl’s eyes and she’s suddenly not sure.

Costia hums under her breath and hands Clarke a few dollar bills. Then she picks up her camera and holds it up, carefully putting it around her neck so that she can pick up her bag and to-go drink.

“I’ll see you around, Griffin,” she says, her smile widening into a grin, “Tell Lexa I said hi.”

She walks away and Clarke feels a lot like she’s sixteen all over again, desperately wishing she was in someone else’s skin rather than her own.

//

Lexa gently stretches her back in order to reach the blaring alarm clock, her fingertips brushing lightly against Anya’s bare shoulder as she tries to hit the snooze button. The other woman softly stirs but quickly resumes sleeping when Lexa manages to shut the damn thing off. The only reason Anya manages to wake is when Lexa accidentally pushes the alarm clock to the ground, where it loudly crashes against the floor.

“Sorry,” Lexa mutters, laughing quietly when Anya just grumbles in response. “I have Lit next in thirty minutes.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to torture the damn alarm.”

Lexa rolls her eyes and gets off the bed, picking off the loose shirt she had hastily taken off the night before. Then she moves towards the kitchen, where she can already smell the coffee she’ll be making in a few minutes. However, before her fingertips can reach for her favorite mug, she hears a sound she never thought she’d hear ever again.

Costia’s ringtone.

She immediately turns to the source of the sound, discovering that her phone is hidden in the pocket of the skinny jeans she had hastily removed the night before. Her heart hammering loudly inside her chest, she moves achingly slow towards the item of clothing and reaches inside to pull out her phone.

It was their song. She can still remember the taste of Costia’s tears against her mouth during their last kiss and as she turns the screen over so that she can see the name ( _COSTIA_ bold and large, blinking like a motel sign in Vegas), she feels a rush of bittersweet memories wash over her; memories of flower crowns lying at the foot of her bed, Costia’s soft, gentle laugh as they shared inside jokes and hurried kisses pressed against the top of her head, kisses that had meant everything back then.

“Hi,” she says, when she finally accepts the call.

“Hi,” Costia answers on the other end. The background sounds noisy, like she’s in the middle of traffic and Lexa finds herself wondering where exactly her ex-lover is, and if New Zealand is as wonderful as she imagines it to be.

There is silence, but not an awkward one. During their relationship, Costia had been used to Lexa’s stoic nature and her short-worded answers and too serious tone. It’s comforting to know that some things haven’t changed. Costia knows how to wait things out.

“Why are you calling?” Lexa asks, straight to the point, as usual.

“I’m calling to ask one simple question,” Costia states, her voice flat. Lexa can hear her breathing steadily.

Suddenly, the atmosphere seems to have dropped a few degrees. Lexa doesn’t have an inkling on what the question could be, but based on the dread curling in her stomach, she knows that it isn’t good. She braces herself for the blow, for the tears and the screaming, for the pain and heartache that has faded but still lingers.

Then, unexpectedly—

“Did you—” Costia exhales a soft breath, “Did you ever tell her? Clarke.”

Lexa feels as if she’s been punched. All the air has been knocked out of her lungs and for several seconds, she stays crouched on the floor with the phone clutched tightly in one hand, feeling as if she’s eighteen all over again and saying goodbye to Clarke Griffin in hallway of an airport.

“No,” she answers, because she’s never known how to lie to Costia.

Costia is quiet. Lexa listens to the sounds of cars passing by on the other end, and for one selfish moment, she can pretend that she and Costia are on the road, their arms intertwined and their body warmth mingling in. She can pretend that this is senior year, and they still haven’t broken up, and she still doesn’t realize that she’s been in love with Clarke Griffin all along.

“I’ve got some bad news for you,” Costia suddenly whispers, and her tone isn’t flat anymore but filled with a conviction that seems to wake something inside Lexa.

“What is it?”

“Lex, Clarke isn’t planning to go to college anytime soon,” Costia says, “I know that you’ve been planning to go to the same college together but I just saw her today and she’s in a coffee shop, working her ass off. And that’s not even the worst part.”

Lexa has to force down mixed emotions rising in her chest as she holds onto the phone like it’s her lifeline and Costia’s voice is the only thing keeping her from drowning.

“The worst part,” Costia quietly whispers, her tone hushed, “is that she’s got an engagement ring around her neck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can still scream at me, if you want. 
> 
> I'm located at alisemily.tumblr.com


	3. UPDATE ABOUT THE NEXT UPDATE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> don't get your titties in a twist its just me yall

Good day! I apologize for not having updated this fic a bit sooner. But I AM planning to finish it. I hate not finishing things, you see. It currently has nearly 35,000 words and I'm nearly halfway through the fic. Hopefully, I can get it out by December or January. Here's to hoping. I'm glad you loved it (I am assuming you did, since you're here)! And the main reason why I had to finish this fic was because A LOT OF PEOPLE have been asking for it. I hope you'll be patient! Thank you so much xx

**Author's Note:**

> You can yell at me, if you want. Find me at heyasscroft.tumblr.com


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